Revealing the Truth
by Januscars
Summary: My takes on how Merlin could possibly REVEAL! Please review, request, prompt. Quite a lot of violence anticipated. A lot of blood, a lot of fear. Sometimes Arthur will forgive him. Sometimes he will not. Sometimes... people will die. Sometimes not. Prompt 10: the entire court is put under a spell and Merlin is confronted by a powerful young sorcerer...
1. Cry for a friend

**So basically I plan to come up with a whole bunch of ways in which Merlin could reveal his magic. We'll start with a magicwhump! one. The best way to start anything.**

** This isn't set any time in particular. (Ignore anything in here that contradicts anything in the series. This is totally independent, just as if they are the normal characters being their normal selves. No bewitched Gwen, no Mordred… pretty much discounting all event in series 5.)**

**This is my first Merlin fic… be gentle… (:**

**Oh, and feel free to request a reveal scene. I'm open to suggestions!**

**In this particular one, Morgana has attacked Camelot, and won, taking the surviving knights, Arthur and a couple other familiar faces into the throne room, and chaining them to the ground. Morgana plans to kill them one by one... Yeah, Morgana, real smart.**

**I, obviously, don't own Merlin. I don't know why I even bother saying that. If i did, this would have been in an episode long ago. (:  
**

**-JC**

* * *

_**Cry for a friend.**_

**A Merlin oneshot by Januscars  
**

"I give you… Arthur Pendragon!"

The was a terrific roar from the surrounding warriors. Morgana held up her arms, spreading them wide, a delighted, manic, insane grin stretching over her face. Arthur looked up at her, pain and fear warring with his pride. He was kneeling in the centre of the throne room, blood dripping down his forehead, and immense manacles binding his wrists together.

He looked down the room, down the long line of knights kneeling in a similar position. Gwen was part of the line as well, he realised. So was Gaius. Not just knights, but those loyal to him as well. Arthur looked to his left. Gwaine sat next to him, bruises blossoming over his face. Merlin crouched next to him, holding a hand over a large gash in his cheek. The heavy iron manacles were cutting into his wrists, and Arthur could see blood dripping down Merlin's sleeve. His servant gave him a weak smile. Stubborn, stupid Merlin. Always positive, unless the situation they were in _was_ actually positive. Then it was just doom and gloom. But now his manservent smiled, rattling his chains a little. Arthur turned back to his sister.

Behind Morgana stood a row of her fellow sorcerers. They wore cowls and cloaks, but hadn't taken much part in the fighting. They stood now, impassive.

Morgana laughed out loud, fiddling with Arthur's crown. Arthur glared at her.

"I'd die before I let you take the throne, Morgana!" He snarled. Morgana laughed.

"Surely that would be counterintuitive, brother. After all, if you die, who's to stop me?"

Arthur seethed. If only he had his sword. He could run her through – it sounded so satisfying. If only.

Morgana bent down in front of him, "I've won, don't you understand? Don't you see? I've won, and there's nothing you can do about it."

Arthur looked into her eyes, seeing the cold. Why had he never seen it before? He should have realised, all those years ago.

Morgana cackled, and stood, "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this, immensely. Arthur Pendragon, This is the time you die."

She spun around to face the line, "Now, who should I kill first?" She said musingly. Her eyes roved along the line.

"Gwen?" Morgana said, stroking Guinevere's cheek in mock caring. Arthur lurched against the manacles, fighting to be free. He yelled his protest to the ceiling, and Morgana's warriors laughed. The sorcerers stood silently. Morgana seemed to consider, and then let go of the Queen, who slumped away from her, fear clear on her face. "No… Not you, not yet, anyway. Hmm… Gaius? Old man, probably welcome death, don't you?" She crooned. Gaius looked into her eyes.

"What happened to the girl I knew?" he asked quietly. Morgana's face twisted in rage, and she slapped him, hard. Gaius was sent reeling. Merlin, unthinkingly, cried out in anger. Morgana turned to face him.

A smile grew on her lips. Arthur felt the blood drain from his face. _No._

Morgana crossed the room in three quick strides, grabbing Merlin's neckerchief and hauling him to his feet. Merlin staggered. Arthur strained against his bonds, utter panic contorting his face.

"No, Morgana- " He cried. Morgana laughed.

"Oh, but I want to…" she said, "Merlin has caused me so much trouble, I think it's time I paid him back."

Merlin's face clamped down into a mask of grim determination.

"What, you going to fight me, Morgana?" he asked. Morgana looked at him, incredulously.

"You, fight me? Merlin, what on earth would make you think you could so much as scratch me?"

Arthur cried out in desperation. Merlin smiled.

"Just one thing, Morgana. One little fact you've missed." Merlin said frostily. Morgana stared at him in confusion.

Merlin smiled, and held out his arms.

"My hands aren't chained." He hissed.

* * *

Arthur looked down at the floor. Indeed, he realised the iron manacles that had previously chained his servant to the floor were no longer binding his wrists. Had he managed to wriggle out of them? No, he can't have. Arthur remembered seeing Merlin's arms bleeding as the heavy metal cut into his wrists. The manacles were closed, locked and bolted.

Arthur turned his gaze back to Merlin. A suspicion, welling in his chest, in his heart. _No. can't be. No._

But it was. Merlin reached up a hand, and his eyes glowed a brilliant gold.

"That's my king you're threatening," He said in a voice – a terrible, angry voice. Arthur reeled. The power in that voice, words spoken with such sincrity, depth and timbre. Where was his manservant now? This wasn't the Merlin he knew. _This_ was a Merlin who knew what he was doing. Who was prepared to die. A terrible, cold, angry Merlin.

Morgana gave a shriek, and was blasted backwards by the force of the spell. Merlin raised his hands to the ceiling, and then brought them down with a shout. The bonds that held the knights fell to the floor- some snapped, some whole and intact. There was a startled pause.

"Arthur!" Merlin screamed, ripping a sword from a startled warrior and throwing it to him. Arthur caught it on instinct, terror and disbelief warring. No. _Magic? Merlin, a sorcerer? A traitor?_

But he had no time for such thoughts, as one of the armour-clad men bounded to face him. He quickly blocked a stroke, and shoved the man backwards. He ripped the sword from his hand and threw it to Gwaine, before taking the man out. More warriors were there, trying to stop him, but Arthur cut them down mechanically. There was Merlin, ducking and trying to desperately protect himself as Morgana, up and about, spat spells at him with a screech. Merlin, it seemed, was doing more than just fighting Morgana. Arthur saw him duck and flick his hand upwards, with a foreign shout, sending one of the men trying to attack Gwen into the wall. Leon, nearly overcome, found two of the warriors leaping at him fall to the ground screaming, holding onto hands that had apparently been burnt by their own swords. Gwaine was fighting his way toward Merlin, who was fending off magical and physical attacks.

The sorcerers at the back of the room were taking no part. Morgana was screaming at them to help, but to no avail.

* * *

Gwaine. Thick, drunken, loyal Gwaine. Didn't care about magic. Why should he? He concentrated on the facts: his friend was in danger. He struck his way through the roiling mass of bodies and flailing swords. Merlin saw him coming, ducking a particularly vicious spell from Morgana that hit one of her own warriors, and sent him up in a burst of fire. Merlin countered, sending part of the roof crashing down on her. She leaped out of the way, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and a spike of magic. Merlin spun around, ducking numerous attacks.

Gwaine put his back to Merlin, helping him ward off the warriors. Merlin glanced behind him.

"Thanks," he grunted, and then pulled Gwaine to the side as a wave of men tried to break their way past the two of them. Merlin dropped to one knee, and held out his hands. His head whipped up, and eyes glowed.

* * *

"STOP!" came a loud shriek from behind him. Gwaine whipped around, followed closely by Merlin. Morgana stood behind them, panting heavily. Blood dripped down a cut on her forehead, and she held a cruel, vicious knife to Arthur's neck. Merlin leapt forward with a cry of anger, but Morgana made as if to slit the King's throat, and Merlin staggered backwards. Morgana laughed, breathlessly.

"Who would have known?" She asked, "Brave little Merlin, a traitor?" She laughed wildly, "I am a high priestess, You cannot match me, _you_, just a little serving boy who's learned a couple little spells." Morgana hissed. She watched Merlin carefully. He drew himself up to his full height.

"Perhaps you should call me by my real name, Morgana." Merlin said in a soft voice. Morgana cocked her head to the side.

"Excuse me?" She said, incredulously. Merlin stared at her, anger building. He felt the magic in him building, that pure rage drawing more magic than he had ever used, from the very bones of his being. He raised a hand, a soft light glowing around it.

"Emrys." Merlin hissed, "Maybe you should call me Emrys."

Morgana staggered. Arthur was dragged back with her, stumbling, feeling the knife press against his throat. He looked at his manservant through blurred eyes. Merlin looked dark, somehow. As if that proclamation, whatever it was, carried so much weight. Merlin turned his glance on to Arthur. His eyes were hard and cold, but they softened slightly as they rested on the King.

_Sorry, Arthur,_ said Merlin's voice in his head, _I'm sorry._

Arthur gaped at him. He shook his head slightly.

_Goodbye,_ said the voice.

Merlin's eyes glowed, brighter and stronger than before. The knife was ripped from its position against Arthur's throat, as Morgana staggered backwards. But Merlin wasn't finished. He raised his hand, palm upwards, and the tips of the fingers glowed.

"No," Morgana hissed, "You wouldn't."

"I'd die to save Camelot and my King, Morgana, you knew that." Merlin said, "I always would."

Morgana leapt forward, spitting spells at his face. Merlin blocked them all with consummate ease. He pulled his hands behind his head, and Morgana was sent flying - towards him.

He grabbed her by the wrists, and sent her flying into the wall. A group of warriors surged forward, but he mowed them down with a flick of his hands.

If only it could have ended there.

But suddenly Morgana was at his side –without taking a step. They stood, face to face for a second.

"Merlin?" Arthur cried out, fear filling his voice.

_Goodbye, Arthur._

There was a burst of light, a scream from Morgana, and a yell of pain from Merlin, as she swung the cruel knife-blade into his chest. Arthur staggered forward, but the blast of light that flew from Merlin's hands threw him, and all of the knights backwards into the walls.

* * *

Arthur raised his head. The room was silent. Dust was settling. No-one was standing – wait, someone was.

Merlin.

He stood in the middle of the room, head swaying. Next to Arthur, Gwaine raised his head, staggering to his feet.

Merlin turned to look at them. Pain and anger and sadness, all crowded for a position on his face.

"Arthur?" he whispered, but it sounded as loud as a shout in the empty room.

Then he swayed and fell, landing with a solid thump on the floor.

* * *

Arthur leapt towards him. In the shock and horror of the moment, he forgot. He forgot? No, he ignored, ignored the magic. This wasn't Merlin an evil sorcerer. This was Merlin, his Merlin, dying on the floor. Arthur knew, no matter what he'd done, he was still Merlin, the bumbling, stupid, clumsy, but the undoubtedly _wise _Merlin. Gwaine was by his side, similar thoughts in his head. Percival was staggering towards the felled servant, horror on his face. Gaius was sprinting – _sprinting_- towards him, but Arthur reached Merlin before the others could. He threw himself to his knees beside his prone friend. Blood was spilling over the floor. No, god, no.

Arthur grabbed him bodily, and lifted him from the ground. Merlin's head lolled, his eyes rolled back in his head. He was still breathing.

Arthur looked across at Morgana. Pale, still. He knew she was dead, instinctively.

Arthur looked back down at his manservant. Deathly white, bloodied. Small, suddenly he seemed so small. Arthur put his hand over the knife hilt still buried in the warlock's chest. Bright silver among blood red.

Gwaine was whispering something behind him, he could hear Merlin's name in there, but all other words were blocked out. Merlin… Merlin?

"Merlin?" he whispered. There was no response. No, this couldn't be happening. This was Merlin. Merlin. A sorcerer, yes. But Arthur couldn't be angry at him now – not now, not with him dying in his arms. If Merlin woke, and got better, perhaps then Arthur could be angry. Perhaps then Arthur could scream at him, punish him, throw him in the dungeons or something. But not now, now Arthur couldn't see a sorcerer and traitor in his arms, he could just see Merlin.

"Come on Merlin," he whispered, gathering the man to his chest, tears finally spilling from beneath his eyelids.

No response.

"No, damn you, you… clotpole. I don't care, do you understand? I. Don't. care. You can't die, do you hear me? You're Merlin, and I don't care what else you are, that's it. You are Merlin, and you are bloody well going to wake up. Right now, you hear me? Right now." There was a small cough next to him, and he looked back at Merlin's face. His eyes were open, responding to the king's words. They were glazed, but his slowly failing mind was fixed on Arthur.

"N…" he tried to speak. Arthur grabbed his hands, and placed them over the terrible wound.

"Come one Merlin, you can do it. I don't care, you understand me?" Arthur shook him roughly, "Don't you dare lie there and let yourself die, don't you _dare._"

Merlin raised his arms from over the wound. Arthur shook his head, pressing them back on. Merlin could heal himself, couldn't he? Of course he could.

But Merlin slipped his hands out from under Arthur's shaking fingers.

"_Remember-"_ he finally managed to choke out. His hands clapped Arthur's temples, and his eyes suddenly glowed gold, a brilliant, pure gold. Arthur's neck arched, and suddenly images were flashing in his head.

Memories. Merlin, magic at his fingertips, pulling Arthur backwards from the veil. Merlin, mind boiling, pulling him back from countless attacks. Merlin, stepping forward, "I'd die to save Camelot and my King-"

Arthur screamed, a long, god-awful, devastated scream. The man in his arms was no longer breathing.

"No, come on Merlin, come on, don't do this to me, not now-"

A soft, firm hand pushed him to the side.

One of the Sorcerers. Morgana's followers. He was lying, stomach open to the world from a stab wound in that first initial push, which he and his fellows had joined. There was sadness in his eyes. Arthur stared wildly at him.

"You cry?' the man whispered. He looked at the near-dead servant, "You cry over a sorcerer?"

Arthur met his gaze. Steady. Suddenly calm with certainty.

"I cry over a friend." He said firmly.

* * *

Merlin was slowly sinking into darkness, a soft, warm darkness. it felt so good, so natural, why couldn't he just let go? That would be so, so easy...

_"I don't care, do you understand? I. Don't. care. You can't die, do you hear me? You're Merlin, and I don't care what else you are, that's it. You are Merlin, and you are bloody well going to wake up. Right now, you hear me? Right now."_

Merlin heard that echo in his head. The rush of memories he had given to Arthur was the last of his strength. The very last, he thought. The magic he had used against Morgana had weakened him, terribly. It took every once of his strength to hold on for this long. Why didn't he just let go? It would be so much easier, wouldn't it? Just to let go?

Another voice in his head, a deep, booming, shouting.

"_MERLIN!"_

It was the Great Dragon, he could feel the creature screaming in his head. Sadness, fear? Was he scared for him? He coudl feel the dragon's pain. He cared. He cared. Merlin wanted to say something to comfort him, something to be remembered by. But he couldn't even open his eyes now.

"_You cry over a sorcerer?"_

Merlin heard the voice faintly. He was slipping over the edge. He was letting go. It was so peaceful.

"I cry over a friend."

Arthur?

"_A_ friend, _my_ friend," the voice came closer to him, growing softer. he could vaguely feel a face pressed against his, but he felt disconnected from his own body. Arthur...

"Merlin..."

Oh god, he couldn't do it. In that instant, he knew he _couldn't_ let go. Not now, not here. There was so much to say, so many apologies, accusals, friendships to reform. Arthur didn't care? He still cared, about Merlin. He still cared, and that was enough. Merlin felt a rush of strength- but how? He had -

Suddenly he knew. The dragon - The dragon was pouring energy into Merlin's body. He could hear Kilgharrah's roar in his ears, a painful, heart-wrenching cry. He felt the magic in him pulse, very slightly. But enough.

Merlin pushed himself back fromt the edge. It hurt, it hurt, god it hurt. Suddenly he was flailing back in a world of light and noise, and he sucked in a great, deep breath. The face pressed against his paused. Arthur.

Merlin shoved himself away from Arthur in a screaming heap, suddenly aware of the lancing pain in his chest. He had dragged himself back to the world of the living, but now he had to fight to stay in it. Blood was pouring through his cupped hands, and he screamed at the ceiling. A hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him backwards. Arthur was there, holding Merlin's hands over the wound, pleading with him to heal it. Pleading, Arthur was pleading. Merlin coughed, feeling his tenuous hold on life slip again. He took a deep breath. He could see faces pressing down around him, urging him to hold on, to do it, to heal himself. Arthur, Gwaine, Percival, Gaius, Gwen - they were all around him, and none looked hostile. They all cared.

His eyes rolled up in his head, eyes glowing a deep gold. No words came with it, it was just instinct. That carnal instinct to survive. He need to live. His magic was working for him. His energy was being added to by Kilgharrah, energy that coupled with his magic. He could do it, he could.

* * *

Arthur was bordering on the brink of collapse.

Merlin was shaking on the floor, eyes rolled up in his head, convulsing under his own hands. His eyes were glowing a fierce bright light, but the breathing in his ragged chest was gasping, choking. His hands, like claws, were clenching around the knife hilt. He pulled it from his body, slowly, inexorably, gasping in pain, that flow of magic shuddering as he did so. The blade, slippery with blood, clattered to the floor. Arthur bent over him, tear streaming down his face, and put his own hands over Merlin's. Their eyes met, and suddenly, that look of despair of Merlin's face vanished. The gold brightened, forming an almost solid incandescence in the eyes of his friend. Merlin's back arched, and he let loose a cry.

Then it was all over. Merlin fell back against the smooth stone of the hall. Blood was still running through his fingers, but it had slowed to a trickle. He was coughing, and blood was coming up with it.

His eyes met Arthur, and he slumped back, exhausted.

"Ow." he said, almost musingly. Arthur felt like crying, but found himself laughing. Gwen hugged him fiercely, but he pried her loose and scooped Merlin up in a crushing hug. The warlock put his lips to Arthur's ear.

"You don't care?"

"Yes," Arthur said firmly, "I do care. I am astonished and hurt, and I wish you'd told me... But, god help me, I don't care, not right now."

They sat, a small group among a host of dead bodies, crying and laughing over a sorcerer...?

Over a friend.

* * *

**A/N: hope you liked it! I'm not entirely happy with it, but I'll post it anyway. I've never posted a Merlin Fic before, this should be interesting.**

**Please, any prompts for reveals would be appreciated, and hopefully written. I'm all ears!  
**

**And, of course, please review. First Merlin fic, so, I'll say it again, please don't be too harsh (;  
**

**See you... soon? I don't know. I've got other fics at the moment, so might be a while. See you then!  
**

**-JC  
**


	2. The Unworthy King

**WOW! That was unexpectedly successful. Thanks so much for the reviews, and especially for the suggestions and ideas… I have spent a very excited few days trying to come up with a new one. A couple left suggestions, and I'm going to do the next reveal to either, one or both of the terrific ideas given by kitkat (Who really should get an account :P). So, kitkat, you'll have to wait until after this one. Sorry. (;**

**Anyway, before I get to that one, have one more of my own creation. **

**IN THIS FIC, Morgana has once again tried to capture Camelot, because, let's face it, she doesn't really have much else to do with her life. Owing to Merlin's resourcefulness (and magic, but they don't know it yet) Arthur and some of the knights managed to escape – but here's the problem. Merlin's been captured by Morgana, trying to help sneak Arthur out of the castle. He was shot by an arrow and subsequently knocked out, and unfortunately can't perform magic while unconscious. Crap. Arthur, being the stubborn idiot he is, is going back to Camelot (now overrun by Morgana and her Morganians [could not resist calling them that])**

**But what is Morgana doing to Merlin? Read on, dear friends… And please, don't kill me.**

**Oh, and just warning you. This one is kind of similar to the last one. Sort of. You have been warned.**

**I don't own Merlin and do not profit.**

**-JC**

**_The unworthy King_**

**A Merlin oneshot by Januscars**

Softly muffled footsteps threaded their way past the entrance to the dungeons. The fait rustle of chainmail clinked along in time to the footsteps. There was a loud clatter and a thud, coupled with a muffled swear.

"_Shut up Gwaine!"_ Hissed a voice.

"_Sorry," _came the reply, "_My fault."_

_"I know it's your fault, idiot. Why else would I -"_

The voice cut off, at a loud banging noise from below. A repetitive thumping, as is someone was pounding the floor with their fist.

Arthur held up a hand, and the group of knights stopped. Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Elyan and Mordred fell into a halt, as another set of guards came and went past the nearest door. Arthur bit his lip.

"Where is he?" he hissed to himself.

Merlin was down there somewhere, in one of those deep, dark chambers. Who knew what Morgana was doing to him? She would do anything to obtain Arthur's whereabouts, anything at all. It was Arthur's desperate hope that they'd get to Merlin and get him out before she could hurt him. It was a vain hope, but he clung to it anyway. What else was there to cling to?

His thoughts were interrupted (and hopes crushed) as a loud, inhuman scream ripped through the still air around them, causing them all to jump, and Mordred to drop his sword. The scream pierced their eardrums, filled with pain, a rasping, terrifying scream. Merlin's voice, they could just barely recognise it. The scream rose beyond what Arthur considered normal levels, until it became a roar of indescribable pain. The knights sped up simultaneously, making towards the source of the scream. Arthur felt his heart leap into his throat, and all thoughts of stealth flew temporarily out of the window. What was Morgana doing to him? God, if she killed him Arthur would never be able to forgive himself. It was his fault Merlin was here. His servant had been helping _him_ escape. They had almost been free, almost all safe, when Merlin, the last in their company, had been hit with one of the arrows.

Thanks to Merlin, they had gotten away, and Morgana was unable to claim the throne as her own. But Arthur hadn't been able to stay back, to wait it out, while his best friend was being tortured, or potentially killed. _Was it worth his kingdom?_ The knights had asked. Arthur had no answer. His brain said no, but another part of his brain argued that sitting by would do nothing. He was a warrior, and he should fight for his kingdom. And save Merlin, the first side of his brain added quietly. _And save Merlin._

He dropped to his knees outside the grating. Gwaine nudged him over and stared through it with him. The other knights took up positions, watching the corridors carefully. Mordred's hands were shaking slightly, but Leon was as cool as ever. Elyan was trying the door quietly, but of course it was too much to hope that Morgana had left it open.

Arthur stared down into the murky room. He could see Morgana's tall, practically emaciated form, but not Merlin. He squinted. Was that -

Another scream ripped through the room, and he jerked backwards involuntarily. He could just make out a thrashing form in front of the witch. The chamber lit up with some form of spell, and the scream rolled through the chamber. It rose and suddenly dipped, falling into a pathetic sobbing. The witch's voice taunted Arthur's ears.

"Where is he?" She asked, voice silky and dangerous, "Arthur. Where is he? Oh, no, no, no, don't get up," she crooned, as Merlin shifted in front of her, "Tell me where he is, and I'll spare you."

There was no sound other than sobs of terror and pain. Arthur felt his hand tense around the hilt of his sword. If Morgana had been there, at that moment, he would have stabbed her without a second thought. She had been his friend, she was his sister, but she was torturing his best friend, and that was something Arthur couldn't forgive. Ever.

Gwaine lunged forwards with an indignant shout on his lips, as Morgana grabbed Merlin by his neckerchief, using it to drag him across the floor. This was a particularly bad move on the knight's behalf, and he bashed his head rather painfully against the cold stone. He let out a cry of pain, involuntarily.

Arthur stiffened. Morgana didn't notice, so wrapped up in Merlin's pain that she ignored all other sounds. But Merlin heard it, and recognised it insofar that it was not his own. His head rose slightly, as Morgana turned to the side, to remove something from a bag she had left resting on the dungeon floor. Merlin's eyes locked onto Arthur's. They stared deep into his King's, and his mouth moved.

_No,_ he mimed, _get away._ Arthur shook his head, and pressed his hand against the grating as if to symbolise why he was there. His fingers clenched against the rough metal. Merlin's eyes widened, and he shook his head furiously. _What the hell are you doing, clotpole?_ His eyes seemed to say.

Then Merlin's attention dropped, as Morgana turned back to him. There was a slight shuffling, a slight hiss.

"Do you recognise my little friend here, Merlin?" Morgana taunted, "Has Gaius told you about him? What about Elyan? Did he tell you about it? Did he tell you how much it hurt?"

Arthur stared in confusion and horror. It was a snake – a snake?

But Elyan had heard his name, and was crouched between Arthur and Gwaine. At the sight of the creature twined around Morgana's fingers, his face drained and his hand went instinctively to his throat.

"_What is it?"_ Hissed Arthur. Elyan stumbled, and then tore at the king's arm.

"_We have to leave, Arthur, now! That's the Nathair, Arthur, It's pain, god, Arthur, unimaginable. Merlin will have to answer, we have to leave!"_

Arthur stared at him. What the hell –

But then there was another sound. Morgana, laughing.

"Still refuse? Oh Merlin, you think you know pain…" She sung softly, "You don't know pain yet."

Her hands, closed around the snake reached down to the prone form, and her eyes flashed golden. Her voice chanted ominously; "Unmicel snaca, suge þa soþan... swilcnesse!"

Oh god, if the screaming had been bad before, now it was worse. It was animal, screeching and coughing and roaring at the same time. Arthur could practically feel the waves of pain released from his friends writhing body. Elyan was paused in the action of tugging Arthur away, but had frozen at the scream. It descended from a bestial screech to a breathy, continued rasp. There was no substance to it, but Arthur could hear the thrashing body, and hear Morgana's laugh. _Laughing, Morgana was laughing._

The body and voice finally fell silent. There was no movement. Not a twitch. Merlin was fully in view of him now. His eyes were blank. Not a muscle trembled. His mouth hung open, and his eyes were closed. Arthur felt his throat clam up. Gwaine looked as if he wanted to rip the grating in his hands into pieces. He probably did, Arthur thought on the side.

Morgana stood over Merlin, and grabbed his neckerchief. She used it to lift his top half from the floor. He lolled alarmingly.

"Now, poor baby, you gonna tell me?" whispered Morgana, "Poor little Merlin, all alone… abandoned you, didn't he?"

Elyan resumed his tugging of Arthur's chainmail, directly trying to remove him from the scene. Leon joined in, realising that Elyan was deadly serious in assuming Merlin would tell all.

"_Arthur," _he hissed, "_there is no way he can refuse her, Arthur, you can't just ignore that pain. Your best knights-"_

Arthur was impervious to their arguments.

"Now, tell me where Arthur is. Tell me where Arthur is, and I'll make the pain go away. I'll give you food, and water, and I'll make the pain go away. Or, I can always let my… little friend… have her way with you.."

Merlin's eyes met Arthur's. Their gazes locked. Arthur was right there, Merlin could see him. In that instant, Arthur knew it was up. Morgana had won. He had heard the scream, the terrible pain it told of. He could vaguely remember Elyan mentioning a snake – or something, at least, that had forced him to relieve the details of Arthurs whereabouts. Elyan was a strong, hardy man. He had taken blows, wounds, many more than Merlin. He was strong willed and incredibly loyal, but he had given up Arthur's whereabouts. Arthur didn't care now – there was no sense of betrayal in the thought of Merlin revealing his presence. Only that secret relief that he kept to himself, that his friend might live. Or, at least, that his friend might not be tortured any longer. That, he feared was his only comfort.

Merlin finally broke his gaze, and took a deep breath. Morgana sat back with a smirk, waiting for the location.

"No."

Elyan stared wildly, gasping out loud. He looked so literally stunned, so disbelieving of Merlin's feat that Arthur immediately understood Elyan's insistence. The knight had genuinely been absolutely sure that Merlin would have no choice but to betray him.

"What?" came an indignant voice from the room.

"No," Merlin repeated in a choked voice, "I'll never tell you. I'll take the secret to our graves."

"Merlin," Morgana began, and then registered what he had said, "_our_ grave_s_?"

She swooped on him again, and he thrashed and the scream burst from his lips, no substance, rubbing his throat raw. Bubbles of blood burst at the corner of his lips.

Arthur's head was spinning. He knew Merlin was loyal to a fault – but to the extent that he was willing to give his _sanity_ for his King? One of Arthur's best and bravest knights had caved and revealed all after one round with this… thing…

"NO!" Merlin roared again, as the serpent was removed from his skin, "NOTHING, DO YOU HEAR ME, MORGANA? NOTHING!"

Morgana gave a scream of rage, and hauled him upright, holding him standing while the Nathair inflicted it's pain upon him. Merlin's whole body shook and trembled, but Morgana did not relent.

"ARTHUR!" Merlin screamed, and Morgana stiffened. She turned, very slightly to face the direction in which Merlin was staring. Her eyes narrowed ont he figures behind the grating.

Her scream of anger died in her throat.

Merlin stumbled backwards, tears coursing down his face. He crashed to the ground in a twitching heap.

But he wasn't done.

Arthur gave a scream of pure horror, as Merlin levered himself to his feet, and leapt at Morgana, bringing her to the floor with the force of his own weight, screaming. Arthur leapt to the dungeon door, slashing at the lock with his sword. A couple of Morgana's guards were alerted by the noise, but Leon and Percival dispatched them with ease. There were screams coming from inside, and Arthur finally managed to separate the lock from the doorframe. If it were any other moment in his life, he would have been disappointed that it was so simple to break into his dungeons. But he had no time for such thoughts. He flung himself into the room.

The knights – Arthur, Gwaine and Elyan halted. The sight that met their eyes was one of… It was indescribable.

Merlin, bloodied and battered, face bruised and scars covering his neck, was being held to the wall by a furious sorceress. His face was going purple. Morgana's hair was wild, her face was scratched and her eyes blazed with a deadly light.

Merlin looked directly at Arthur, and gave him a weak smile. Apologetic? A farewell? It seemed both.

Arthur stared in horror, as his manservant's eyes glowed a deep, impossible gold. Morgana screamed and he yelled, and the room was engulfed in a brilliant light. Arthur stumbled and was flung against the wall, as both sorceress and servant buckled under the magic. _Magic…_

Then it was all over. Morgana fell with a thump to the floor. Her face had suddenly gone deathly pale.

Merlin was already on the floor. Chest still. No breath escaped past his lips.

His eyes stared into Arthur's, unseeing. His face – it held on it a look of relief.

Arthur moaned, a deep, moan of despair. He couldn't move. Everything was in slow motion. Percival, dragging Morgana away, checking to see if she was dead. Gwaine running forward, grabbing Merlin from the floor and shaking his lifeless body. The tears dripping down his cheeks. Merlin's face didn't move. His hair waved limply. Blood dripped from multiple lacerations. His eyes stared into Arthurs, blank. No love, no laughter, no fear, no nothing. His hand dangled from Gwaine's lap. It was deathly pale.

Then Arthur was a blur of action, sliding into a kneel position beside his dead friend. He grabbed at Merlin's face, placing a hand on the cheek, holding onto the limbs and desperately feeling for a pulse. But no pulse was to be found. Gwaine's face was awash with tears, twisted into a terrible mask of grief. Percival stood to one side, forlorn. He stared at the felled man in Gwaine's arms.

"All this time," he murmured, almost to himself.

Gwaine put his forehead to Merlin's tears coursing down his own cheeks to drip onto the warlock's cold flesh. Arthur held the hand to his lips, letting the tears pour over the digits. He and Gwaine held the man in their arms, Arthur cradling his head now, and Gwaine holding his own face in his hands, tears streaming through the fingers. Arthur had never seen Gwaine cry before.

Merlin was a sorcerer. Somehow, it didn't seem to matter. What mattered was one thing: Merlin was dead. What else was there to care about?

Arthur pressed his cheek against his manservant's.

"Come on, you clotpole. Don't do this to me."

Merlin did not respond. He couldn't respond. He was dead, dead, and there was nothing Arthur could do about it. He had died saving his king. Arthur was unworthy of that title now, _his king._ What had he done to deserve Merlin's loyalty?

It was too late now, too late to ask. Too late to question his actions, too late to be angry, too late to try to save him, because he was dead - dead.

His friend.

His pleadings fell on deaf ears. Merlin would never hear his pleadings. He would never joke with him, never counsel him, never call his a prat or an idiot, never wake him up with a cheery smile, never serve him uneatable food. He would never be at Arthur's side, ever again.

Arthur was unworthy of the title, '_friend.'_

Merlin's face stared blankly to the ceiling, and Arthur sobbed into his chest. But he wasn't coming back. No tears, no magic, could save him. Merlin had given the ultimate sacrifice, and he hadn't doen it for Camelot. He had done it for a king, a friend, and man who felt now unworthy of both titles.

He had done it for a man he believed in.

.

* * *

**Okay, you may now kill me. Now this one was a little rushed, and I'm sorry. Please feel free to abuse me for killing Merlin. I'm sorry!**

**Oh, and I thought I might as well remind you: the snake thingo was from last season (at least I think it was... yep, ****_the 'Sword in the Stone', _****series four). The spell Morgana used to... I don't know, rile it up?... was found on the Merlin wiki (and invaluable resource!)**

**But still, reviews and prompts welcome! I'd still prefer nice ones [reviews, obviously, the prompts can be as horrible as you like], I don't particularly want to get disheartened after only the first two chapters, but hey, it's life. Shit happens. Please review!**

**Feel free to request! Kitkat, I'm working on your suggestions (and it seems to be going well so far (: )**

**Fell free to give me more! (-:**

**-JC**


	3. Kin

**Heyho, sorry about the wait. We were down to our last few dregs of internet, and so I was forbidden from uploading for a few weeks. Oh well, gave me time to write this one. They're hunting a sorcerer, rather than just plain hunting, but oh well. I was very liberal on interpretation of this prompt. Sorry.**

**Two more prompts have been supplied, from 'hopper18' and 'Guest'. They are coming! Any requests/prompts are welcome!**

**Oh, and just pointing out, even though Merlin will soon be (dare I mention it) over, the reveals will probably keep coming. Even if Merlin does reveal himself on screen. Because it's too much fun!**

**-JC **

* * *

**_Kin_**

**A Merlin Oneshot by Januscars **

**For Kitkat**

* * *

"So what are we doing?"

"_We_ are stalking a sorcerer. _You_ are shutting up."

"Am I?"

"_Yes, Mer_lin, you are."

"I knew that." Merlin replied sarcastically, earning himself a glare from his master. Arthur took a few more steps. The light from the ever-moving trees cast rippling, dappled shadows around his feet, making it slightly hard to gauge an accurate picture of the terrain. Arthur tightened a grip on his sword.

"But why are we stalking a sorcerer?"

"I thought," Arthur hissed, "I told you to shut up."

Merlin grinned foolishly at him, and Arthur sighed.

"We are hunting a sorcerer," he said patiently, "Because magic is outlawed. The man living here used magic, and is known to us as a potential danger to Camelot."

"Not because he hurt someone, or did something wrong." Merlin countered in an undertone.

"They have already shown the potential to use their magic against this kingdom. They _could_ hurt someone." Arthur said in exasperation.

"Yeah well, so could…" Merlin cast his eyes around the woods around them, "That rock."

"You want me to arrest a rock?"

"No."

"Good. Then shut up."

The group of knights moving behind them rumbled their assent in general, and Merlin took the hint. Arthur gave vent to a relieved sigh, and then straightened, as a rustling through the bushes startled him upright.

"It's probably a wizened old crone in a pointy hat come to steal your kingdom." Merlin said sarcastically, and then gave a yelp of surprise as a large bird exploded from the bushes from which the rustling had come. Arthur swore.

"If only I'd had my bow," he said ruefully, picturing the bird roasted on a large platter. Merlin grimaced.

The knights continued along their previous course. The King had been alerted to the sorcerer's presence by a disoriented and highly frightened widow and mother of two, who was being looked after in the palace now, as a part of the reward for service to the kingdom. Arthur had personally seen to their comfort before riding out, and now he and his best knights were on the hunt. Unlike the hunts that normally took place in these particular woods, this hunt was for a man, rather than beast or game.

Even though he was king, Arthur had insisted on leading the patrol. It was just so _Arthur_ that Merlin had only argued out of pure habit. It would be no use, it was never any use. Arthur was going, and that was it.

Merlin cursed his luck. Hunting innocent animals was bad enough. Hunting one of his own was majorly worse. It made him feel like a traitor. Defeating other sorcerers? That was routine. Hunting them down like criminals, for no reason other than existence? It defied his upbringing and very nature.

The break in the trees signalled a halt, and Arthur wriggled forward on his belly to peer over the dip into the clearing.

"There it is," he whispered. Merlin crawled, less stealthily, up beside him.

"What?" he whispered back. Arthur rolled his eyes and pointed at the small hut below them.

"That, _Mer_lin. Are you blind as well as stupid?"

"No need to be sarcastic." Merlin huffed.

"I wasn't being sarcastic," Arthur replied haughtily, and gestured to the knights crouched some metres back.

"Keep quite. No sign of them, but that may change."

Gwaine levered himself to his feet, predictably the first to rise. Arthur gestured for him and Percival to take the side, while Leon, Arthur and a young but skilled knight named William would storm the front. Merlin assumed that this was an invitation to go either way, and so followed Arthur and company down the embankment, to skip over the small stream and alight mere metres from the hut. He tripped and nearly gave vent to a shout, but was saved by Arthur, who grabbed his arm just in time. _Idiot,_ the King mouthed, and Merlin had the grace to look slightly ashamed.

"_Sire!"_ came a whisper from around the other side of the hut; Gwaine and Percival were ready.

Arthur raised his hand, in a wait signal, and the knights positioned themselves around the hut. Merlin stood behind them, searching the cabin for any signs of magic. He could see no visible sign, and yet, the place _felt_ like it would hold magic. He wasn't sure if it was his powers, sensing the presence of a fellow, or if it was just a general… well, _magical_ air surrounding it. Perhaps it was all just a stereotype. The walls were sufficiently dilapidated, cobweb and moss-ridden, and yet the whole structure seemed sound. The small amount of smoke didn't have that familiar smoky smell, but carried a slightly sweet scent, reminding Merlin of many of the countless herbs that took their home in Gaius' cupboards and shelves. He couldn't quite pick which, the smell was sweet and yet bitter. Perhaps-

He was broken from his olfactory orientated reverie at a shove from Arthur, who gestured for him to stay behind them. Merlin held his cheap and clumsy sword in one hand, inexpertly. Arthur turned back to the knights. Gwaine stuck his head around the side of the house, and Arthur gave him a nod.

"NOW!" He roared, and the five of them charged, Percival and Gwaine breaking down the side door, with Arthur and Leon shouldering the front door down. William followed them in, Merlin trailing after him, looking more than apprehensive.

Retrospectively, Arthur probably should have realised that such and entrance was a mistake.

There was an almighty shriek from within, accompanied by a frantic pitter-patter of tiny footsteps.

"_MUMMY!" _cried a hysterical voice, and a second cried out in terror as the knights crashed into the sitting room of the hut, slamming the door off its hinges and sending the wood crashing down around them.

Merlin felt the bottom drop out of his stomach, as he stared at the occupants. A boy and a girl, barely six years old, with bare feet and tatty clothes. They were being held by a woman, assumedly their mother, and all three were cowering before the blades. The girl and boy hid themselves behind the woman's tatty dress, clutching her arms and crying in terror. The children's screams burned into Merlin's brain, and he winced, instinctively recognising their natural magic and wanting to help them. He stood back, in the shadows, knowing that if he were too close, he would not be able to contain himself, and would interfere.

The woman grabbed her children and backed against the wall of the hut, terror clear on her face. Not, however, as clear as the markings that curled on her cheek – not druidical, Merlin noted, but most definitely magic.

They had rather the same effect as a large sign with the words '_Look at me, I have magic!'_ painted on it in blood - it singled her out as an enemy. And so, the knights picked their target, turning their swords to her in an attempt to subdue her with threat rather than violence. The youngsters buried themselves in the folds of the witch's dress, crying loudly into the fabric as they felt the terror exuded from their mother.

There was a slamming sound, and a rush of feet, as a man entered the house behind the row of king's men. He took one look at the scene - Arthur and four heavily armed knights threatening his children and wife, who were standing, utterly defenceless against the rough wooden counter – an lifted his palm towards the king.

The royal blade descended to hover in front of him.

"I'd think twice about what you're about to do, _sorcerer,_" Arthur spat, "We came for you, and you alone. If you come quietly, I can promise you a fair trial and guarantee the safety of your children. It's one chance, and I advise you take it."

There was a pause, filled only with the sounds of the children's tears, and the witch's laboured breathing.

"You talk of fair, _your highness_," the sorcerer replied, "I can see no fairness in the courts of Camelot."

Arthur's sword drew closer to the man's neck, "If you do not surrender, you will be taken by force," he threatened.

The sorcerer held firm. His gaze never shifted from Arthur.

"Magic will be your undoing, King of Kings.' He said in a dangerous voice, "Magic may protect you, but it is also your bane; you are right to be wary."

"Protect m-" Arthur began, but before he could finish the query he found himself thrown across the room to crash into the wooden support beams, flung by the force that emanated from the magician's hands, and his molten eyes. The roof creaked ominously under the sudden application of weight.

The knights swung into action, two running forward to tackle the omniscient warlock, who flicked them aside with consummate ease. Gwaine grabbed Arthur's arm, but, momentarily stunned, he was a dead weight. Gwaine instead drew up his sword to point at the sorcerer. Merlin was ready to dart forward, desperately searching for a subtle way to stop the man, without badly hurting him. But before he could, there was a loud scream, and the man stopped dead.

Sir William held the girl – a tiny, pathetic figure when dwarfed by the massively built knight – by her neck, his sword hovering threateningly above her. Her face was awash with tears, and her hands scrabbled against the muscled forearm. The woman screamed and made as if to leap at the knight, but was held back by her son, who was shrieking in in terror and hanging onto her leg. The man lowered his hand, face aghast and terrified.

Arthur raised himself to his feet, and took stock of the situation. When Gwaine moved his sword to the sorcerer, who had dropped his hands, Arthur turned to William.

"William, let her go," he said quietly, but the knight didn't move, "William, she's just a child. We don't hurt children."

"She's a devil-child, sire," said the panting knight.

"No child deserves a title like that," Arthur replied calmly, alarmed inside as to the behaviour of a trusted knight, "We hunt magic, not children. This child has done nothing wrong. Put her down."

William paused, and then slowly let the girl go. Arthur stepped forward, sword still held tightly in his hand.

"Are you al-" he began, reaching for the girl with his sword-hand. His voice was cut off by a strangled gurgle, and a muffled thump.

The room paused. The knights were divided – half staring at Arthur, and half at the sorcerer, but all were confused. A large kitchen knife was imbedded in the King's back. The hilt protruded a little, but the instrument was well and truly entrenched.

Merlin felt his head spin, his stomach drop. _Arthur! _ His mind screamed. The King's eyes rolled up in his head, and gurgled breaths hissed from between his lips. Merlin felt his mind freeze.

But his brain still managed to register one, crucial fact. The sorcerer, the man who had threatened his King – he had not uttered a single word. His eyes had remained their deep chocolate brown.

The mother lowered her hands, eyes subsiding from gold to their pale blue. The knights stared in anger and disbelief, only reacting when Arthur sank to his knees in front of the little girl, who began to scream. Blood was pooling fast on the floor.

Merlin suddenly found himself beside Arthur. He didn't know how. He couldn't remember moving, couldn't remember leaving the shadows. Gwaine's sword was swaying in a drunken manner as he tried to decide on target, his natural hatred towards anyone who harmed his king warring with his natural instinct not to attack women and children. The spell was broken by Percival, who attempted to wrestle the woman away from the children, who were huddled together, holding onto her skirt.

"No!" the mother screamed, clutching her children's hands, "No, leave them alone!"

"Arthur!" Merlin cried, suddenly reprieved of his tongue-tie, voice permeating the room. The woman stopped struggling, the sorcerer behind him stumbled and fell to his knees.

Merlin looked up from the twitching king, into the eyes of the woman. The knights, seeing the shock on the lady's face, stared as the witch sagged into Percival's arms.

"Oh, no, I'm sorry," She said softly. All in the room stared at her, "I'm so sorry, Emrys, I did not know it was you, he was going to hurt my children, please-"

Merlin's mouth went dry. His hands went to Arthur, and felt the blood cover them immediately. In his terror and desperation, he had not understood the full impact of what had been said.

Then he realised.

His head snapped up, to find the children staring at him, awe on their faces. The Knights looked at the woman in surprise and recognition, and then around to find who she had been addressing. Before Merlin could indicate otherwise, she sank down to her knees, "Please, Emrys, I only did what I thought was best, please, forgive me, spare my children, please, I did not know-"

The knights finally realised who the woman was addressing.

There must have been some mistake. Surely not _Merlin._ The woman was delusional.

This idea was lost, when the man joined in, mumbling his apologies to Merlin, repeating the name _Emrys,_ leaving no doubt in the minds of the knights. William did not know of the full import, but the other three most certainly did. They had heard of Morgana's hunt for the fabled man, from Gaius and from Arthur.

Merlin was about to deny it, about to tell them that they had it wrong, that he was not Emrys, he was Merlin. No, there was no time for that, only for Arthur. It didn't matter, not now. If Arthur died it would have been all for nothing – no destiny, no Emrys.

His hands were pulling the king over, ignoring the frantic gabble from the woman and the stares of the knights. Leon bent down to help him automatically, and Merlin managed to pull the knife free from its living sheath. Arthur gave a groan (thank god he was still alive) and Merlin ripped away his shirt.

"I did not know, I would not have, if I had known it was you Emrys, I swear-" the witch continued.

Merlin used the ripped shirt to staunch the blood flow, and quickly snapped at the paralysed knights.

"I need help! Get water!" He turned to the man, "Sheets, fabric, I need something to staunch the wound!"

The man darted off, with Gwaine following him.

The woman ripped herself out of the slightly slack grip of Percival, and gathered her children to her chest, still gabbling her apologies. Merlin felt he had no choice – it was now or never. No ordinary healing could possibly deal with such a wound; he knew what his only chance was now. Of course he knew. Maybe it was meant to be like this.

His thoughts were interrupted by the man, who barrelled back into the kitchen followed by Gwaine, both carrying sheets and a basket of herbs. Merlin grabbed them and pressed the fabric against the King's feebly rising chest. The grotty white sheet turned blood-red almost immediately, and was soon heavy with the liquid. It seemed impossible that such an amount could come from a single body.

"Emrys."

Leon stared at the old man. He looked back at Merlin. Merlin could see his brain working, his mind trying to comprehend what logic was telling him.

"Leon," Merlin said simply, "Arthur cannot die."

Leon nodded, throat dry.

"Then I'm sorry," Merlin (Emrys?) said, "I really am."

There was such tension in the room at that moment, it welled like a physical force, and kept all of the room's occupants utterly frozen.

This was suddenly shattered by a shout – from the floor, where Arthur lay, still no more. He was thrown into a spasm of convulsions, tearing at his chest and coughing up great torrents of blood. Foamy residue bubbled over his lips. His flailing hands tore the soaked fabric away from his chest, and the damage was all too apparent to the occupants of the room. The neat gash down his chest, a straight line that sagged at the edges, displaying cold pink flesh to the room at large. Gwaine and Percival knelt beside him, frantic and yet unable to do anything but watch as their King died before them. His skin was becoming pale and translucent; sweat covering his face in a silvery sheen, making it look as if his skin was captured beneath a layer of yellow-tinged glass. His breathing was shuddering.

"_Emrys please, please forgive me, if I had known you were here I would not have-"_

Merlin ignored the woman's garbled speech. He felt it, the magic, flowing beneath his skin. It had been subtle at first, but now it strained, yearned to break free, desperate to be used to save the fallen King. Merlin felt as though he had no control, but did not care. He could see the life slipping away from the man before him; see it with his very eyes as the rasped and horrible breathing became slower, and more laboured. They could _hear_ the blood in his lungs.

Then they could hear nothing at all.

No breath, however laboured. The blood bubbling over his lips trickled slowly to a halt. No blood followed it.

"_No, no, no Emrys I swear, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll help, oh please, let me help, Emrys-"_

Merlin looked up into the woman's pleading face. He stared into her eyes.

He reached out his hand to her, nodded confirmation to her last offer. Her slim but strong hand curled in his, and he pulled her forwards, on her knees, until she crouched opposite him, over the King's body.

"I will need all the help I can get," he murmured softly, and pulled her hand, along with his, over the wound in Arthur's flesh. Her eyes widened, and her resolve tightened.

Merlin placed a hand first on the woman's forehead, and then on Arthur's.

The knights watched on in confusion and trepidation. The impossible was being played out before them – _Merlin_, the impossible-

The woman gasped, eye widening in surprise as she felt the magic that passed from the determined servant in front of her. She felt it through her hand and arm, as a wave of power. Her own magic responded, like a call. Merlin's eyes were glowing a brilliant gold – brighter than any had seen, and brighter than Merlin had ever experienced. His fist clenched, his body shook with tremors of fear, desperation and grief.  
"Come on, clotpole," he hissed, half to himself, and half to Arthur. The knights around them stumbled backwards, as their King shook beneath the warlock's and woman's hands. Tears dripped off Merlin's nose.

The arcane language tripped off his tongue with ease, the spell filling the room with its words. They sounded ancient and dusty, and yet so filled with power that it left the male sorcerer behind them whimpering in fright, and the knights felt their senses rattled. It was impossible…

Merlin became desperate. No change in the king. His mouth shaped the words again, voice rising in pitch and timbre, but to no avail. But Arthur couldn't die now, not now, not here.

He abandoned the words. The woman continued to chant them in her own voice, but he dug deeper, clutching at that spark of pure magic, feeling it pulse away in his chest. Now was not the time for words and spells. Now was the time for magic.

His eyes burned, his head threw back, and he body seemed to tremble, shuddering as if something were forcing its way out of his body.

And indeed it was. Arthur's chest convulsed, an almighty spasm that nearly dislodged their hands. The woman gave a shriek, as she felt the burst of magic pass by her, feeling the power, the terrible _power_. For a moment, she was glad that she had not incurred his wrath. Or perhaps she had. But no sorcerer that she had ever met equalled even a fraction of this outpouring of power. The children held onto their mother's free arm, staring at the shuddering Warlock, eyes molten, eyelids fluttering and whole body trembling.

And the king took a deep breath.

Merlin saw, with blind eyes, felt through that outpouring of magic, the wound begin to ripple. The fibres deep inside the King's body were knitting themselves together, the blood was sneaking back into its veins, the skin beginning to stretch taut. He knew now he should stop- let him heal on his own, but the magic would not let him. He was shaking violently now, in an attempt to cut off them magic. His body thrashed and he gave an almighty yell.

The magic stopped, and Merlin fell.

His body slumped sideways, eyes spinning in his head, energy spent and wasted. It had taken it all out of him, there was nothing left for him to cling to. His magic pulsed feebly, drained by the struggle.

He felt a pair of hands catch him before he could hit his head, heard the voices of the knights, the sharp breathing of the woman, the soft cries of amazement from the children, but most of all, his mind was aware of another pair of lungs, another's choked coughs. Arthur's voice struggled from his mouth.

"M-Merlin?"

Merlin felt himself being lowered to the floor by the pair of hands that held him, heard shoutings of "Arthur!" and "Merlin!", close at hand now, and someone was peeling back his eyelids, pressing their fingers to the nape of his neck. He felt a gentle hand remove his fingers from around the woman's, and felt a familiar set of hands touch his face. He could hear the woman shuddering, hear the children run to her, hear her gather them in her arms, and was glad. She didn't deserve persecution. She had simply been protecting her children.

The male sorcerer's face hovered over him, "Emrys?" he whispered. Merlin shuddered, and found he could not answer. The magic had taken too much out of him

"What happened?" came Arthur's voice, confused and slow, but still sharp with demand.

"…rthur…" Merlin muttered.

"I don't know," replied Gwaine.

Arthur's hands grabbed Merlin's.

"What was that?" He asked.

"M-m'gic…" Merlin murmured. Arthur looked up at Gwaine, unable to hear what his friend had said.

"Magic," Leon confirmed, eyes wide with fear.

Arthur stared back down at Merlin, who looked to be falling asleep. His eyelids fluttered feebly. The knights around were clustered around, except William, who was cowering in the corner.

"Emrys. Well," Gwaine said shakily, helping the woman to her feet, "that explains a lot."

.

* * *

**A/N: So that ended on a crappy note. But it's getting too long, so I'll leave it to you to imagine what happens next. **

**My computer kept wanting me to replace 'heal' in reference to Arthur's stab wound, with 'patch up.' Because of repetition apparently. So basically the sentence in question would have gone like this: ****_"No ordinary healing could possibly patch up such a wound."_**** In reference to a kitchen knife buried in his back, up to the hilt.**

**I had an image of Merlin crying and comforting Arthur (****_no, it's okay, it'll be alright, I'm here, it won't hurt for much longer_****) and gently applying Band-Aids to the stab wound. That threw me of my writing rhythm for a little.**

**Please review and request! hopper18's up next!**

**-JC**


	4. A Tavern Tale

**Here you are, hopper18. Hope it's alright! Bit of a strange interpreatation of your prompt, I know, and I changed it a little. Oh well.  
**

**All you need to know is that before this opening moment, there have been brutal killings in one of the outer villages...  
**

**-JC**

**_A Tavern Tale_**

**A Merlin oneshot by Januscars**

**For hopper18**

_Gaius gulped._

_"He's… uh… he's…"_

_Arthur tapped his heels impatiently._

_"At the tavern." Gaius said._

* * *

"What'll it be sir?"

Arthur turned around to face the barman, "Two tankards of mead, and some information."

The tavern keeper looked up in shock, first at the amount that Arthur had tossed on the table, and then at Arthur himself, who was unmistakeable as royalty. The man gulped and nodded reverently, passing over two tankards of liquor to the king and knight, who he recognised as a tavern regular. He bit his lip and looked down at the coins. Double what he'd earn in a week, and from the king, no less.

"Now, sire, what can I do for yer?" he said in a businesslike tone that was largely ruined by his commoner's drawl.

Arthur laughed, and then his voice dropped conspiratorially. He leant forward, as if to whisper something in the barman's ear, and the man mirrored this movement instinctively. He suddenly found himself pinned forward by an armour covered forearm.

"_Merlin. Where is he?_" hissed the king.

"Wh—who?, My lord?" stuttered the barkeeper, eyes widening in fear and confusion, "I don't know nobody called _Merlin,_ sir, no indeed, if the feller's done something wrong an 'e come in 'ere I'll be the first to let you know, but-"

"You don't know who Merlin is." Arthur said. It was a statement, not a question, but the barman shook his head all the same, and Arthur stared deeply into the man's eyes, "No idea. Never seen him in here? Short, black haired fellow. Stupid neckerchief and ears that stick out. Totally inept at most things, including walking straight. My servant."

The tavern keeper visibly swallowed, "No sire, I—I'm sure I really haven't, and I know I'd be the first to tell yer if 'e were 'ere. I aint think I've ever seen-"

"You can stop covering for him. He's always here, and he must be here now. I need to talk to him. Where. Is. He?"

"I really don't know who you mean!" The barman said desperately. Arthur slapped his hand down on the table and stood.

"Right. I'll find out myself." He said grimly. Gwaine glanced up.

"What if he goes to another tavern?" he suggested, "_I_ certainly never saw him here. And I am here rather a lot." He burped, and wiped his mouth.

"Well, how many taverns are there in Camelot?"

"There's another one in the lower town." Gwaine suggested, "But that really doesn't seem like Merlin's sort of place." He had already finished his mead, and was making a start on Arthur's.

"What do you mean, not Merlin's place?" Arthur asked, confused. Gwaine grinned at him.

"Stick your nose in and you'll find out. It's not for the fainthearted. You have to be able to down three tankards in one go just to get through the door." He looked thoughtfully at a spot just above Arthur's head and shrugged, "In fact that's probably it's single redeeming feature."

"Redeeming feature?"

"It keep all the amateurs out." The knight clarified.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "How do you know this?"

Gwaine let loose a hearty belch, "I'm a regular." He said with a dopey grin.

"Is there a tavern in existence that you're _not_ a regular of?" Arthur asked sarcastically, and Gwaine shrugged.

"None that I know of."

* * *

Arthur had demanded a private search of the property anyway, sick of Merlin's tavern-induced absence and determined to hunt him down. He hadn't been anywhere in sight, and so Arthur had finally given up, paid the tavern keeper for his troubles, and departed with a now highly drunk Gwaine in tow.

"Right, I'm going to the lower town," he said in a business-like tone, and Gwaine laughed, grabbing onto his arm so as to prevent himself from falling.

"Good god Gwaine, how much did you drink?"

"Nothing, I swear. Just a little *_hic_* tipple, nothing too…" Gwaine paused for breath, and burped, "Much, nothing too much."

Arthur sighed, "Do you think it's likely Merlin's gone to the lower town?"

Gwaine shook his head, "Not if he's planning on getting drunk," he said in a slurred voice, looking earnestly at a spot two feet left of Arthur's face, "If you went there and got drunk you wouldn't make it back before dark." He demonstrated his reasoning by tripping over an empty cask and falling gracelessly to the floor with a loud _thunk_.

Arthur nodded, and heaved him upright, "Well I'm going to check it anyway. You go back to the castle and sober up, you're on patrol tomorrow. If you find Merlin, tell him he's a useless clot and I'm going to make him wish he'd never been born."

"My lord," Gwaine said, and attempted to bow. Unfortunately his brain was having trouble telling which way was up, and he lolled while his senses tried to determine the direction he should fall in. He finally worked it out, and slumped onto the floor. Arthur heaved him upright again, "Get going." he hissed.

Gwaine nodded and stumbled off, keeping in close company with a physical wave of destruction that seemed to follow him most of his waking life. There was a ringing crash, and muffled and slurred "_damn."_ from in amongst the abandoned stalls.

Arthur turned on his heel and made for the lower town.

* * *

The tavern didn't seem particularly hostile. Perhaps that was just the presence of the king. It smelled like the inside of an uncleaned stable though, and Arthur gagged a little as he entered. The smell thankfully seemed to be centred around the door, and by the time he had gotten to the bar, the retching factor had reduced considerably.

After a couple of coughs, his voice finally managed to worm it's way out of his throat, and he quickly questioned the man behind the bar.

"No sire, I certainly don't know anyone by that name. What does he look like?" the tavern keeper paused in wiping the bar top and smiled at the king. Arthur shrugged, wheezing a little still.

"Skinny, black hair, ears that stick out and an inability to walk straight without knocking things over. I think he was wearing a red shirt, with a blue neckerchief, though it may have been the other way around."

The tavern keeper leaned back to glance around the room, "We've got someone who might recognise him- oi, Dylan! Come over 'ere, you lazy sod."

Dylan looked up from his drink and burped. He had of course recognised Arthur as he walked in, and bowed clumsily. The tavern keeper gestured to Arthur, "Know his servant?"

Dylan paused, a slow look of torpid concentration stealing over his face. He frowned.

"The boy with the scarf thing? And the ears?"

"Yes," Arthur confirmed, "That's him. Does he come here? Is he here now?"

Dylan snorted and shook his head, "Nah, he isn't a tavern goer. I tried to convince him once, but he didn't want to. Said it'd get in the way of his work. Pity, I thought I might be able to wrangle money for a drink from him. Seemed decent enough."

Arthur sighed, and rubbed his forehead. Dylan cocked his head drunkenly.

"Why d'you want him for?" he asked in reckless curiosity. Arthur looked at him, and shrugged.

"_Apparently_ he goes to the tavern. And yet, none of the occupants of either tavern have ever actually seen him there."

Dylan nodded sagely, and belched. "Must be going to see a girl. Using the tavern as a front."

"He doesn't have a girl. He would have told me." Arthur said. Dylan nodded.

"So must be a man." Dylan said cheekily, smiling at the conclusion he had come to. If he had been Merlin, Arthur would have walloped him over the head. But he wasn't Merlin, Merlin wasn't at the tavern. He never had been.

"Oh shut up Dylan," the tavern keeper snapped, "You're drunk."

Arthur smirked, passed the tavern keeper some coins, and tossed one to Dylan.

"Thanks. If you do see him, tell him I say he's an idiot."

"Right you are sire." Dylan said, bowing from his stool, "Any*_hic_*time."

* * *

"No luck?" Gwen asked him with a smile. Arthur gave her a small grin, and flopped back onto the bed covers.

"Nope. No-one in any of them have seen him. Most of them don't even know him."

Gwen slid onto the bed next to him, "Maybe he's…" she thought for a second, and Arthur interrupted.

"Seeing a girl? That's already been suggested. But he knows that if it were important he could just ask."

"You wouldn't give him a day off for a _girl_," Gwen said with a laugh, poking him sharply in the ribs. Arthur frowned.

"I would in moderation. After all, he helped me with you, didn't he?"

"That's right, he did, didn't he?" Gwen said musingly. Arthur smiled, and gave her a kiss.

"I don't understand though," Arthur said in frustration, "He's _never_ been there. Where has he been all this time? Where could he possibly want to go?"

Gwen nuzzled his shoulder, and looked up at him, "Do you really need him for absolutely everything?" She asked.

"Well, I've got you," he said quietly, "I suppose I can survive without him for a day."

"Yes, I'm sure you can," she whispered.

* * *

And yet, when morning came , Merlin was still not there. Arthur groaned and rolled out of bed, to find a plate of food awaiting him, with a small note from Gwen propped against the water jug. He picked it up and smiled, tracing her handwriting with his fingertip. He picked at the bread absently, and popped some of it into his mouth.

"Sire?" There came a knock at the door, and Arthur glanced up. Leon stood at the door, anxiousness on his face.

"What is it?" He asked, noting the knight's expression and feeling a burst of worry in his chest.

"The early patrol's come back. They've been attacked."

The reaction was automatic.

Arthur shoved his breakfast to the side, and leapt over the table, to follow Sir Leon's rapidly disappearing figure out of the door. The knight was jogging down the corridor, and suddenly all thoughts of Merlin were whipped out of the King's mind. Their footsteps rang out down the hall, and the servants stood back fearfully to let them pass. The sight of a fully armoured knight, and King still in his bedclothes pelting down the corridor made heads turn and mouths drop. But no-one questioned them. How could they?

Leon and Arthur burst into Gaius' chamber, looking upon the carnage within. Six or so knights lay, in various state of ruin upon all available surfaces. Gwaine was closest to him, and seemed to be the least damaged. It was a grim sight, when compared to him last night. His arm was bleeding copiously, even through the bandages.

"What happened?" Arthur asked in a frenzy, and Gwaine sucked in a deep breath.

"I don't know. It was all so fast," he grit his teeth, "It leapt on us as we rode. Didn't see it coming or anything. It was just suddenly there. Huge and scaled, as far as I saw."

"Gaius?" Arthur asked, and Gaius quickly gave an overview.

"Well, it certainly had some form of paralysing poison in some part of its body. William and Percival were… stung" he explained, without conviction, "Large claws, spiked tail. It isn't much to go on, but it certainly doesn't fit the description of any natural beast, to my knowledge."

"Was it responsible for the deaths outside the outlying villages?" Arthur asked. Gaius nodded.

"Very probably. I'd say, from the description, that it's scaled hide would provide more than enough protection to block a sword or spear. I'm afraid your knights didn't stand much of a chance. You're lucky they all escaped with their lives."

Arthur nodded, and called to Sir Leon.

"Gather the council and knights. We need to hunt this beast down."

Leon nodded and dashed off again. Arthur watched him go, and then turned to Gaius.

"Do you know where Merlin is?" he asked. Gaius looked up, surprised.

"No sire, I thought he was with you."

"Well he wasn't at the tavern last night." Arthur said dangerously. Gaius shrugged, wrapping a bandage around a particularly bloody wound.

"You must have missed him," he said airily, "Now if you'll excuse me…"

He shuffled past Arthur to attend further to the wounds of the knights. Deep in the old man's stomach, guilt and fear was slowly building. Merlin had suspected something magical involved with the multiple deaths in the lower town and had gone to investigate. If he wasn't back yet… who knew?

* * *

The king had been close to leading the patrols to capture the beast himself, but a delegate from an outlying kingdom in the east was arriving, and he was expected to be there for it. So he had to be content with watching them leave from the courtyard. Gwen stood beside him, biting her lip. He turned to face her.

"You're glad I'm not going." He said. It was a statement, not a question.

"Always," Gwen replied, "But you know that."

...

It was now several hours later, and he watched from his window, with some confusion, as the horses had returned with one man riding double. The same amount of horses… who was the extra?

He pulled on a jacket and hurried to meet them. The patrol was not due back for another few hours at least, and worry knawed at his insides. They had been hunting an impossible beast...What had happened? Certainly none of them seemed to be injured. He trotted down the stairs as quickly as possible, passing Gwen on the stairs and yelling something indistinguishable about patrols and returnings. Gwen turned on her heel and followed him.

He burst into the courtyard, to see the horses slowing to a walk. His eyes were momentarily blinded by a burst from the dying sun, and he shielded his eyes to espy the knights and their new compatriot.

He recognised the rider riding double as Leon, but slumped before him in the saddle, held firmly in place by his right arm was-

"Merlin!" Arthur cried in shock. The horse clopped to a stop, and Arthur hurried to catch the sagging man. Leon released his grip and Merlin slipped into Arthur's outstretched arms. Arthur was immediately overwhelmed by two immediate sensations. The dead-weight of the totally unconscious, and the sticky feeling of drying blood. A lot of it.

He pulled the man up into his arms in a more stable position. Leon vaulted to the floor and followed Arthur in the direction of Gaius' chambers. Only yesterday their roles had been reversed. Up the stairs, down the corridors, the continuous clank of their armour and footsteps jarring Arthur's ears. Blood was dripping between his fingers.

"What happened?" Arthur asked, and Leon jogged a little faster to come up beside him.

"Well it's a little-" Leon drew in a breath, "We found him. In the woods. There's clawmarks on his back, and he was lying… in a pool of blood-" Leon broke off, and Arthur gulped.

"What was he doing so far from the castle?" he asked. Leon shrugged in mid stride.

"He certainly wasn't in the tavern…" he said. Leon had obviously heard about Arthur's tavern escapade the previous day. Arthur felt a surge of guilt, and ran a little faster. But Leon wasn't finished yet.

"The beast," he continued, "the one responsible for the deaths…"

"Attacked him." Arthur finished in dread. God, all this time he had been waiting for his servant to return with berating words on his lips and punishment for drunkenness and desertion of duty ready in the wings. And Merlin had been lying face down in a pool of his own blood.

"No." Leon said. Arthur stumbled, and stopped.

"What?"

"Well, yes, it attacked him. But…"

Arthur stared at Leon. Leon took a deep breath.

"We found it. A metre from his body. Dead. Completely dead. His sword was broken at the hilt, and the blade was imbedded in its belly."

Arthur's mouth gaped, "What?" he asked in incredulity. Leon nodded his head.

"I know, I know. Gaius told us it was futile, it was likely no blade would penetrate the hide. And yet-"

They were interrupted by a shout, as the man himself came running down the corridor.

"What happened?" Gaius asked, panting from his frantic run, seeing his ward slumped in the King's arms. But there was no time to explain, and Arthur simply swept the man along in his wake, guiding them into the already packed sick room. The knights within, on seeing the injured, all shuffled to share spaces so that one could be freed for the lacerated servant.

Arthur quickly set him down, and with the help of Leon rolled him onto his stomach. The wounds were all too obvious. His whole back had been torn, blood pooling from the skin like water running off saturated mud. The four diagonal slashes seemed to burnt into Arthur's brain, and he couldn't relieve himself of the image. Arthur grabbed one of the sheets sitting on the stack nearby and pressed it over the wound. Gaius was grabbing water, and Leon was desperately turning this way and that way, unable to be of any assistance. Gaius thrust a bucket upon him, snapping at him to fetch more water.

The less injured knights gathered, offering what services they had, and Gaius sent Gwaine up the stairs to retrieve the herbs from above. Arthur used some of the remaining water to wash the wounds clear – around the edges of the claw marks clung a thick, cakey yellow substance, which Gaius instructed him to gently remove. Merlin shuddered beneath him at the slightest touch.

"Merlin?" Gwaine asked Arthur, "How'd it get _him?_"

Arthur shook his head, "I don't know. I don't know." He said through his teeth. Leon returned with a bucket of water, and Gaius took a scoop of it and crushed some sweet-smelling herbs into it. Arthur dipped his hand in the rest and dripped it carefully around the massive wound, using the damp cloth to wipe away the mass of sticky congealed blood. Merlin was convulsing beneath him, but Gaius indicated that he should not stop. Arthur winced at every spasm.

"I thought," he said quietly, "he was drunk. And guess what?" he paused in his work and looked up at Gwaine. "He wasn't drunk. He was half-dead." Arthur finished bitterly. Gwaine put a hand on his shoulder.

Gaius took over, rubbing some of the potion into the skin, and picking up a delicate needle. Arthur sat back, unable to do anything other than watch. And think.

Leon silently passed him Merlin's rucksack and sword hilt. Arthur took them and looked them over. The snapped off edge of the sword blade was blackened around it's edges. He looked at it for a moment, and then put it to one side.

"Can someone please tell me what happened?" Gwaine insisted, and Leon took the cue.

"A patrol was sent out to capture the beast this morning," he began, and Gwaine nodded, "We set off for the outlying villages, in which there had been sightings."

"And deaths," Arthur added. Leon nodded.

"We talked to a couple of the people involved, and they gave us a general direction in which the beast had headed after attacks. We came across tracks and followed them – they went quite a long way, but the size of the beast made the tracks deep and easy to follow. We came across what we thought was its lair – a sort of hollowed out rock with a lot of… meat… in it."

Arthur and Gwaine shuddered at the thought – what's, or more precisely, _who's_ meat had been festering there?

"But we found the beast. A few metres away in the bushes."

Gwaine gulped, "And it attacked you?" he whispered, fingering his own wound.

"Hardly," Leon said, "it was dead."

Gwaine's head snapped up, "What? How?"

Leon gestured to Merlin, "We found him a couple of metres further. He'd evidently crawled clear of the body. His sword-" Arthur held it out for Gwaine to see, "Was broken at the hilt, as you can see. The blade had snapped off, and was embedded… in the beast's belly. Killed it stone dead."

Gwaine sat still for a second, shock slowly building on his face.

"I went for its stomach," he pointed out, "I couldn't even scratch the surface."

Arthur turned to look at his unconscious friend, "So how come Merlin could?"

* * *

They brought back the body of the dead beast for Gaius' appraisal. Arthur was determined to know if there were any more of them, and if so, what was an effective way of dealing with them.

"Let Merlin loose on them," Gwaine suggested with a grin, which subsided when Arthur didn't laugh. Gwaine knew how guilty the King felt, and shared in that guilt. They should have gone out to look for Merlin. All this time, and instead of lying in a pool of alcohol like they had expected, he had been quietly bleeding to death in a veritable lake of his own blood.

Arthur stared at the sharp claws on the beast. The razor sharp talons still had drops of dried blood smeared upon it, and he felt sick. The massive head lolled on the hard floor, one black eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. The nostrils were wide and face squashed, with a large, sweeping tail bristling with needle-sharp spikes. But Arthur's eyes were immediately drawn to the gut of the beast. He squatted down, ignoring the putrid smell of the thing, and traced the outline of the sword's entry. He frowned.

Gwaine looked over his shoulder. "What is it?"

"The edges," Arthur said, running his finger over it, "They're burnt. Look, here, where the scale would have covered the hide. It's been _melted._"

Gwaine gave a little cry of disbelief. Arthur dug his fingers into the wound, and the cry of disbelief from his companion turned into a cry of disgust. But Arthur pulled his hand back out clean.

"That's why there's no blood. The edges of the wound are totally burned. Burned black. Whatever was on his blade burned through it's scales and flesh."

He used his fingers to grab hold of the piece of sword within it, and began to pull it free. When there was enough free for them both to hold Gwaine joined in and they leaned back, trying to remove it. It slid free with a dry _pop_, and Arthur held it up for them to study.

Both jaws dropped.

The sword was almost entirely blackened, and yet, that was not what held their gaze. Right at the tip, running along the ridge of the sword, was a small blue flame. It flickered and bobbed, and when Arthur put his hand near it, it glowed with an impossible light, and exuded such heat that he dropped it. It fell to the floor and began to eat it's way into the tiles.

Gwaine knelt down and picked it back up, gingerly. The flame bobbed, calmer now for lack of living presence. The knight picked up a sheet of parchment nearby and held it in the flame. Arthur winced, expecting the paper to go up in flames, but the little blue flicker simply bobbed, doing no more damage to the parchment than Gwaine's finger and thumb as he held it. There was certainly no sign of that devastating heat, that had melted stone and forced its way into impenetrable hide.

"No... It's not possible. Not... _Merlin._" Arthur's heart leapt. Gwaine pulled the paper away, and the two of them stared in disbelief at the little blue flame.

They were both thinking the same thing.

Magic.

* * *

The tavern keeper was once again wiping down the bar when Gwaine trotted inside. The man smiled, and accepted the knight's coins, passing him a tankard and watching him slump over the bar.

"So, did yer find yer friend?" he asked. Gwaine nodded.

"Oh yeah, we found him alright."

"Where was he?" the man asked, handing Gwaine his change. The knight took it, and replied sadly.

"Not at the tavern." He said softly, "He never was. We thought he was drunk. Turns out he was dying." He finished that sentence in a distant whisper, before taking a deep swig from his tankard.

The tavern keeper nodded, and shuffled back behind the bar. He was unable to think of a proper response.

.

* * *

** Ugh, It went all dramatic. I promised myself I wouldn't do that. Sorry. I habitually go for bamf. I'm really sorry!****  
**

**Please review! Having a string of bad days, reviews will make them shine! :D**

**Thankyou so much for following. Over 40 followers. I am overjoyed! I love you ALL!  
**

**-JC**


	5. A Tavern TalePart two

**MERRY CHRISTMAS!**

**Here, have five more. As a very big Christmas present! I was actually only going to give you three, but then I got all inspired and wrote some of my own devising, and figured, ****_why not? _****I advise you leave a little time between reading them, because it's weird skipping from bromantic/humorous to tragic so quickly. I know I found it weird when I re-read it. So maybe, to cool off, you could spend a couple of minutes in between reviewing? ;D**

** I got a little teddy bear from one of my friends, and I gave him a neckerchief and called him Merlin. He's my new fanfic adviser. Say hello to Merlin the Teddy everyone! :D**

**First comes an extension on the last one, by request. A (eventually bromantic) confrontation after A Tavern Tale, which isn't really a oneshot anymore. Oh well. (I'm supposed to write ****_an _****oneshot rather than ****_a oneshot_****, but that just sounds horrible****_._****)**

**_A Tavern Tale… Part two_**

**A Merlin not-so-oneshot by Januscars**

**For those people who asked for it!**

* * *

"I always wondered how you survived."

Merlin jerked upwards at the noise, ripped from a lulled sleep by the familiar voice. His head pounded as he rose, and he clutched at his face, a moan escaping his lips. He waited a few seconds while the thudding died down, and then pulled his eyes open. He finally managed to turn his head slightly, and saw a blurry shape leaning against one of Gaius' benches. The blur slowly subsided into the back half of a furious King.

"Arthur?" he murmured blearily. His back hurt. _Really _hurt. "How long have I been…" he coughed, and Arthur answered the question with his back still turned.

"Three days." He said, emotionless. Merlin swung his legs over the edge of the table and held his face in his hands.

Arthur turned. The warlock was running his hands through his hair.

"Gaius told me everything." Arthur said. Merlin looked up, confused.

"Everything?"

Arthur held out a long metal object. Merlin took it. It was the blade of his sword, burnt down its length, and with that blue spark still flickering at its tip. The servant finally understood Arthur's expression, and fear rippled through him like a living thing. He looked up at the King.

"So..." Merlin said with a dry cough. Arthur sighed, and handed him a water skin. Merlin took it gratefully and felt the cool water sooth his tortured throat. The tub made a thunking noise as he set it on the bench.

"So," he repeated, finally able to speak more than a word, "What… what do you know?"

Arthur sat down opposite him, and picked the water vessel back up, taking a swig himself.

"A lot. I hope it's all of it. But that really doesn't seem likely."

Merlin stared him in the face, "Don't you care?"

"Of course I care," Arthur snapped, "You think I've spent these past three days at council meetings? I've spent them yelling at everyone. At Gaius, at Gwaine, at Gwen, for god's sake Merlin, I don't know what to think any more. Gwaine's drunk himself to the point of unconsciousness, Gaius has practically had a nervous breakdown, and I don't know _what_ to tell the people."

Merlin bit his lip. Arthur held his head in his hands, "All this time, all this time, _magic_? After all we've been through, after all that, I suddenly realise…" He sighed, "I'm just as stupid as you say." He muttered.

Merlin laughed quietly under his breath. Arthur looked up.

"But, it makes sense, I suppose. All those falling branches were a little _too_ convenient."

"I was wondering when you'd realise that." Merlin said with a sigh.

Arthur stood up, picking up the wrecked sword blade, touching the blue spark and watching it flare up as he did so.

"It's burnt this whole time, you know. It almost stopped burning - for a moment there," He said quietly, "I thought I'd lost you."

Merlin was silent. He could hear real sadness in the King's voice.

Arthur laid the blade down on the table, and fingered it lightly. His brow was knotted together, and his composure became stiffer.

"Do you know what I do?" he asked in a cold voice, "To people like you? People like _you?_"

The way he said _you_ made Merlin flinch. Arthur's fingers were tapping lightly on the sword at his waist, running his hands over the hilt unconsciously. Merlin gulped, and nodded. Then he realised Arthur's back was turned, and so spoke.

"Yes."

Arthur sighed, and pulled the sword from his belt, "I feel I have no choice. I am duty bound.," his voice broke in anger.

Merlin stared at him, tears building in the corners of his eyes. The King's hand flexed on the sword hilt.

"People like me…" Merlin said in a whisper, "You execute them."

Arthur turned, a smile on his face.

"Don't be an idiot Merlin. I knight them."

Merlin's face was frozen in transition between two emotions – fear of death, transitioning to relief and shock. Arthur laughed at the expression, and laid the sword aside, "Perhaps I'll leave that for the ceremony," he mused.

Merlin shook his head, expressions finally reassembling themselves into something resembling normality, "No, come on, you can't knight me." He said in a strangled voice. Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Give me one decent reason why I shouldn't. Because Gaius could remind you of a thousand reasons why I should."

"I have magic?"

"Nope, sorry, not good enough. I only say that would-be-knights have to last a minute with me, I never specify which weapon they should use."

Merlin looked him in the eye and grinned a crooked grin.

"You know you can't knight me," he said, "You can't have a knight as your servant."

Arthur paused in his immediate retaliation, and looked down at him. A slow smile spread over his face.

"You know it's funny." He said, "I spent the past three days preparing what to say. I spent it screaming at Gaius, trying to get him to justify allowing you to stay in Camelot. I beat the crap out of the knights at training, I was so angry at you. And now… I don't know."

Merlin shrugged, "Does this mean you won't knight me?"

"I can't," Arthur said with a sigh, "thanks to that furious training session I have armour to be cleaned."

They sat for a moment in silence. Arthur was fiddling with the hilt of his sword, tugging at a thread that was fraying on the grip. He looked up, and bit his lip.

Merlin watched as he rose, and came to sit down next to him. The King sat quite close, and Merlin felt a little awkward. But Arthur turned to face him, and the most unexpected question leapt from his mouth.

"Can you show me?"

Merlin stared at him, and Arthur elaborated, "Can you show me some magic?" there was an almost childish curiosity about the royal. Merlin looked taken aback, and looked around the room.

"Well, I mean, I don't know, yes, maybe, depends. What do you want to see?" he gabbled. Arthur shrugged.

"Can you bring people back from the dead?"

"No. No, and even if I could, I wouldn't." Merlin said firmly. The steel in his voice was unmistakable.

Arthur shrugged, "Then something… I don't know, impressive. Prove to me you're as good as Gaius says."

Merlin looked at him with trepidation, and Arthur made a _go ahead_ gesture. Merlin closed his eyes, and held up his palm.

He paused, and glanced around, eyes roving around the room until they lighted upon a sack of various seeds in the corner. His eyes flashed, and it was in his hands. Arthur looked at it in fear and wonder, but Merlin wasn't done. He took out one of the large seeds, and nestled it in the palm of his hand.

His eyes glowed, and his voice murmured beneath his breath. Arthur felt shivers run up his spine at the harsh alien tongue, but his eyes were held in wonderment at the seed. It was splitting, unfolding. A leave poked through it, then another, and soon a plant was nestled in Merlin's hand.

His eyes glowed once more, and the plant began to age – not grow, but simply age. In a matter of minutes a tiny, proud brown tree sat in the middle of his palm. It had a few blossoms on it, and it swayed in the breeze from the open window. Arthur's eyes widened. Merlin reached out a hand and took the King's, guiding it closer to the small tree that swayed in his palm. Arthur looked hesitant, but awestruck as Merlin placed his hand over the tree.

The eyes flashed gold once more, and one of the branches spread upwards, wrapping it's leafy tendril around Arthur's thumb. The thin wood secured itself in a tight hold on his digit, and Arthur reached a tentative hand to stroke the branch. The wood from the tree disconnected from his hand, leaving a living wooden ring upon the King's thumb. It was knotted like a branch, with leaves clinging to its edges.

Merlin smiled, and put the tree down on the table. He grabbed a pot from the shelf across the room (without moving himself, of course) and placed the tree in it.

He gestured to the ring on Arthur's thumb, "A good luck charm," he said thickly, his throat beginning to dry up again, "It'll help keep you safe when I can't."

Arthur stared at it a second longer. Then he turned to look at his servant.

"You're astonishing," he said under his breath, and Merlin smiled sadly.

"I try to be."

Arthur gathered him in a tight hug, "I _should_ knight you." He said in a muffled voice. Merlin's arm wrapped tightly around the King, relief making his shoulders shake.

The tree swayed happily in its pot. The blue flame on the sword sparkled with intense light, dancing its way up and down the blade.


	6. A Wound Shared

**And the second one: Set as an alternate ending to '****_the Hollow Queen'_****, (at least, I think that's the episode title…) as requested by 'Guest'. Or at least, one of them! I apologise in advance. Healfics are sometimes fairly similar, and I'm sorry. Hope you like it anyway!**

**I'm fairly sure I got the names right. Sorry if I didn't but I'm sure you'll know who I'm talking about. Sarrum the bastard king who arranged for Arthur to be assassinated. Albin, his son, who tried to do the dirty work. And Daegal, the druid who isn't actually a druid.**

**-JC**

**_A Wound Shared._**

**A Merlin oneshot by Januscars**

**For 'Guest.'**

* * *

Merlin pounded up the stairs, Daegal a few steps behind him. The boy's face was red and his hands were shaking with the stress of the moment. Merlin took a moment to reflect that Morgana had really chosen a bad time to leave him dying in a forest. If Daegal hadn't felt guilty… He tried not to think about it.

They skidded into the corridor, the overhanging section of the balcony that afforded a clear view – and clear shot – of the throne room, that now housed the round table. Albin, son of Sarrum stood, crossbow at the ready, finger twitching on the trigger. Merlin ran forward, and the burly man turned at the noise. Before Merlin could stop him, he had grabbed two small knives, flinging them in his direction. Merlin hurled himself to the side to avoid them, pulling Daegal to the floor beside him. His head hit painfully on the cold marble and his vision swam.

He must have blacked out for a few moments, because he opened his eyes to find Daegal shaking him, in frenzied desperation. He rocketed to his feet, in time to see the bolt leave the crossbow in a straight, whistling flight. He cried out in anger, a long scream that turned all those in the room to look above.

There was a shout from below, and a strangled thud.

Merlin sprinted forward grabbing the crossbow from the man and flinging it away from him. It sailed from his grip and crashed onto the table's surface. Merlin gave the man a mighty kick, and dragged him backwards. His magic held Albin in place, and he heaved him over the balcony. There was a splintering thud, as the full weight of the man crashed after his crossbow, making the table shudder. The guards immediately grabbed him and held him to the floor, but the fall had knocked him unconciouus, and he gave no resistance. Sarrum, at the end of the table, stared at him in shock, anger burning in his features.

Merlin stared down at the scene. Some were staring up at him, muttering his name in wonder at the sudden access of strength. But most were staring to the head of the table, where rested the King, the crossbow bolt imbedded deep into his neck. He was shuddering and coughing, blood erupting from between his lips.

Gaius was frantically trying to stem the stream of blood, shouting for water and something to stop the flow. His head rose to look at the balcony.

"Merlin!" he yelled, and Merlin answered the call without hesitation, turning to run down the stairs, past a frightened Daegal.

"Stay here!" he yelled to the white-faced imposter, who nodded, and backed against the wall.

Merlin threw open the door to the room and rushed in, eyes wide and breath coming in gasps. He slid to a stop beside Arthur, whose eyes were rolling in his head. Merlin gulped, and covered his mouth with his hand.

Sarrum stood by, a small smile on his face. Merlin looked at him, anger breaking over his features. He was ready to leap at the man, pull out a knife and stab him, or throttle him with his bare hands. But the knights, who had put two and two together, were already grabbing Sarrum's arms in an effort to pull him away from the twitching king.

Gaius turned, to look at Merlin.

"Merlin-" he said, and the implication was obvious. Merlin blanched, and shook his head.

"Now? Gaius, in front of these people…?" He took a step backwards.

"He has minutes left Merlin." Gaius snapped, "If you don't do something he'll die!"

The occupants of the room were now staring at Merlin. He was shaking his head, face white with fear.

"Not now, I can't. Gaius, I don't know how!" He said in terror, "I don't know how!"

"If you don't try he will die!" Gaius said frantically, "You have to try!"

"But they'll-" Merlin began, but Gaius cut him off.

"Arthur will die." He said simply. Merlin stopped backing away, and looked at the faces around the room. Terrified, grief-stricken faces. Yes, he knew Arthur could not die. He did not know how to save him though, he had no spell to heal such a wound, with no aid, and a patient so close to death.

"Merlin." Gaius repeated, "He has only seconds left."

Merlin nodded, and came to stand beside the king. He bent down, peering at the bolt. He wrapped a hand around the shaft and yanked it free. A torrent of blood cascaded around it, and a collective gasp ran around the room. Merlin put his hand over the wound, and looked up to the ceiling.

_Come on, you can do it._

He took a deep breath, and began. His voice rang through the chamber, and knights and nobles shivered at the sound. Jaws dropped as Merlin's eyes flashed gold, and his hand glowed. He lifted his fingers away from the wound, but there was no change. He shook his head furiously, and placed his hand back on the wound.

"No, oh come on." He hissed to himself, placing both hands over the king's neck. He repeated the spell, voice rising in pitch. Still no change. He grabbed the King's body and heaved him onto the table, leaping up beside him and leaning his whole weight on the neck. He screamed the spell to the vaulted ceiling, voice echoing with power.

"COME ON!" he screamed, pounding Arthur's chest, repeating the spell in a shout, eyes burning with gold, hands desperately stemming the flow of blood.

The king's chest grew still.

"NO!" Merlin screamed, grabbing the King by the shoulders and shaking him, "No, come on, not now!"

He buried his face in the cold steel of the chainmail. Blood dripped onto his face.

He raised his head. Stares were fixed on him. Eyes wide, terrified. The knights looked on in fear, disbelief and awe.

Merlin made his decision.

"My life is yours, you clotpole," he hissed, and placed his hands over the king's chest. His eyes glowed.

There was a noise, a deep noise, so deep they could barely hear it. The servant knelt by the King, shaking and crying over his dead body.

"Come on, come back," he was begging, "I haven't protected you this long to have you die from one blasted shot, come ON!" his voice rose to an ear piercing scream, and his eyes burned deep gold.

There were no words, just a soundless scream. The nobles flung themselves away from the keening servant, whose hands were glowing with a soft gold light, a faint mirror of the piercing gold of his eyes. His body was shaking with the effort, and Gaius gave a yell.

"No! _Merlin!_" he cried, knowing what the warlock was attempting to do.

Both the bodies – the dead king and the pulsating servant were enveloped in a wispy cloud of particles, that glowed in that beautiful, pure gold. They sprang from Merlin's body, and drifted down to settle on the King. Gaius had tears in his eyes.

Then the light faded. Merlin sat back, shaking from exertion. His vision was going swimmy. For a moment he felt like he was going to pass out.

But then Arthur's chest stirred.

Merlin gave a cry of relief, as the king's chest rose and fell with breath, the blood no longer flowing, the wound in his neck no more than a bruise on the skin. He felt tears drip down his nose, and relief crashed over him in a wave.

But he didn't have much more time for crying. His hands went to his throat, feeling the blood leak down it. He fell onto all fours. Blood poured down his neck, from the vicious wound.

Arthur's wound, now his.

He shuffled backwards, tumbling off the table to lie twitching on the floor, unable to breathe as blood welled in his throat. Gaius grabbed his shoulders, pulling him across the floor and wrapping his arms around him.

There was a clamour as the knights lifted Arthur off the table, staring at the healed skin on his neck. Their gazes turned to Merlin, who was twitching on the floor, hand to his throat, the wound from the king's bolt scored in his flesh. The blood was soaking into his neckerchief, which Gaius tore off, using it to stem the flow. Tears were dripping down the old physician's nose.

Gwaine knelt down beside Merlin. His hand wrapped around the warlock's cold digits, eyes wide with wonder. The other knights crouched around, shock on their faces, hesitant to go near the dying man. His friends, the knights he knew best, came closer. Percival, Elyan, Leon, they all kept nearby. There were tears in their eyes, and blood on their hands. Merlin was dying. It was indisputable – this might be the last time they saw him alive. His sharp eyes were rolling in his head, and his cheat was heaving as he tried to draw breath.

The eyes flicked to rest on Gaius' face. Merlin tried to speak, but Gaius shook his head, and laid a hand over the warlock's neck.

"I know." He said, "Don't say anything."

Merlin shook under his fingers, raising his head to look at Arthur. The blood in his throat gurgled, and his bloodstained Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

"I'll tell him," Gaius said, tears dripping down his face, "everything, I promise."

Merlin nodded, and let his head fall back on the hard, cold floor. His eyelids flickered, staring up at the familiar vaulted ceiling. He could see the throne from where he lay, and he smiled at it. His hand rose shakily to point at it.

"I got him there," he whispered. Gaius nodded, letting his fingers run through his ward's hair.

"How long do you think he'll be able to keep it without you?" He whispered, and Merlin chuckled. The chuckle gurgled in his throat.

"Hopefully a very long time." Merlin whispered. He looked back to the ceiling, past the scared and sad faces, past the edge of the table, past the royal pair of feet that twitched with life- he had done it; Arthur was alive and well, and perhaps now… He lay his head in Gaius' lap, the pain fading. That was nice. He didn't like the pain.

Gaius gave a moan of sorrow as the warlock's chest ceased to rise. Gwaine's mouth trembled with a cry as well, as Gaius buried his face in Merlin's hair, shoulders shaking with tears.

The room was silent, instinctively, out of respect. Frightened faces turned sorrowful, the relieved expressions of those who beheld their healed king turned to grief as they realised the sacrifice made by his protector. Unable to heal him, he had taken the wound for his own. Gwaine removed his cloak, and, as Gaius finally released the Warlock, he spread it over his still body.

Gaius passed shaking fingers over the staring eyes, and all around observed the expression on Merlin's face. Acceptance, and… relief? Gwaine pondered it sadly, and then passed the fabric over the man's face. The bright red of the familiar cloak was stained a deeper red by the slowly flowing blood, but the patch that flowed only flowed for a moment. There was no heart to drive it, and the stream halted, to become a dribble.

Daegal gave a moan from above them, slumping against the hard marble.

There were silent tears around – whether they were for Merlin or still falling for Arthur, Gaius didn't know. He knew who his fell for.

.

* * *

**I think Merlin probably would have a spell to heal a crossbow wound, but hey, whatever. I thought this was more dramatic. :) **

**Plus, Gwen's still evilified. Oops. Forgot about that. Whatever, they'd come up with something.**

**Once again, I am really sorry. I should not have killed him. But I did, so there. **

**-JC**


	7. Old Friends, New Enemies

**Number three: This is a really short un-bamfy one that sprung from the prompt from Samerys707. **

**Sir Richard is just a random. If there actually was a knight called Sir Richard anywhere in the series that I missed or forgot about, it's ****not**** him. Sir Richard is a spawn of my imagination. I assume he knew Merlin as a friend and magical person before Merlin met Arthur. It's a long stretch, but whatever. Stranger things have happened – especially on****_ Merlin_****. Hey, it's fiction.**

**-JC**

**_Old friends, new enemies._**

**A Merlin oneshot by Januscars**

**For Samerys707**

* * *

"I must say, it's absolutely splendid to see you so well Arthur!" Sir Richard said, pounding the King on the back. Arthur smiled with forced enthusiasm, unimpressed and annoyed at the knight's over-zealous nature.

"And you too, Richard," he said with a tight smile. Richard laughed a booming laugh.

"Ah, that's the spirit!" he cried, giving Arthur a friendly punch, that nearly knocked him off his seat, "Where's the dinner, lad?" He still insisted on addressing Arthur as 'lad' in private, even though, as king, Arthur was of a much higher rank. It was one of the many things that Arthur didn't really like about the man, knight or not.

"I don't know," Arthur said, real annoyance creeping into his voice, "MERLIN!" he yelled.

"Sorry, sorry sire," Merlin exclaimed, as he entered the room backwards so as not to spill the huge platter of meats and salads. He awkwardly negotiated his way around one of the cupboards, and narrowly missed tripping over a bucket left in the middle of the floor. Arthur rolled his eyes at Richard, mouthing something to the general theme of incompetence in lower staff, as Merlin wobbled under the huge dish.

He turned around, caught his first sight of Sir Richard, and jumped, tripping over his own feet and tumbling to the floor in amongst a mess of meat. There was a loud and resounding crash as cutlery and sausages spilled over the floor in a haphazard mess. Arthur ducked and felt a slab of meat whistle over his head.

"_Merlin_!' he yelled, and Merlin looked up from the floor, sheepish and covered in some kind of sauce. There was a leafy green plastered over one eye, and he peeled it off hurriedly.

"Uh… sorry sire," he said with a weak grin, "Shall I… clean this up?"

Arthur was about to insist that he did so, but Sir Richard interjected before he could.

"I say!" he cried jovially, leaping to his feet and wringing the servant's skinny hand eagerly, jerking the man upright "that's never Merlin! Good lord boy, you should have told me you were in Camelot! I would have come to visit you! What are you doing here? Still up to your old tricks, eh?"

Merlin reclaimed his hand with a wince of pain, and smiled awkwardly at Richard. The knight beamed back at him.

"You know Merlin?" Arthur asked in surprise, and Richard guffawed.

"O'course I do! He helped me out of a couple of scrapes when he was only a boy, and no mistake! I owe you a pint or two, don't I?"

A look of recognition clouded Merlin's face. Arthur sourly noted the omission of the customary title of 'lad', that Richard bestowed on anyone less than fifty.

"Oh, _Richard. _I didn't realise it was _you._" Merlin said, although it was plain that he had. Arthur frowned at the behaviour.

"Of course you didn't," Richard said with a laugh, "Head full of fluff, you have. What are you doing as a servant? A man of your talent and surely-"

"Ah, no, you see," Merlin said loudly, covering up Richard's words, "I don't really have any talents." He laid stress on the words, trying to indicate the situation to the red-faced knight, but it was to no avail.

"Oh, come on, of course you do! You always did, didn't you? Or don't you like to talk about it in front of the king? I'm surprised he still lets you serve him if-"

"No I _really don't -_" Merlin continued desperately, silently cursing mentally inept knights.

Arthur looked between the two, trying to gauge the subject of the conversation. Merlin's voice was growing more agitated.

"But what about the _magic,_ boy?" Richard roared, "My, that did us a lot of use back in the days, eh?"

There was a pause, in which Merlin buried his face in his hands.

"_What?_" Arthur cried.

Richard stared at him, ridiculous smile beginning to slide off his face.

"Oh no," he said quietly, "You didn't know?"

"Magic is outlawed in Camelot, you dimwit!" Merlin cried in agitation.

"Is it?" Richard said in grief, "I thought that bag of trollop had been cleared up years ago!"

"What?" repeated Arthur, staring at his teary servant. Merlin was shaking his head, mouth opening to deny the claims.

"I thought," Sir Richard rephrased, thinking that Arthur was talking to him, "That that stupid law had been gotten rid of years ago!"

"Stupid law?" Arthur snapped, turning back to the guilty knight, "_Stupid law?_"

"Well," Richard said abrasively, attempting to place an arm around Merlin's shoulders but missing, "If it weren't for Merlin and his magic, I wouldn't be standing here today. And neither, I suspect, would you. Surely that counts for something, eh?" He smiled awkwardly.

Merlin groaned and shook his head, "You're making it worse, Richard," he said, "You haven't even given me a chance to deny it."

"Why would you deny it?" Richard said in genuine confusion.

"Because. It. Is. Out. Lawed. On. Pain. Of. Death." Merlin said slowly, "You clot."

"Well surely I didn't know that." Richard retorted. Merlin covered his face with his hands and spoke through his fingers.

"That's because you are a complete quality clotpole." He muttered, "I manage to keep a secret for years, and you blow it all in under five minutes. Well done. I think you owe me more than a couple of pints now."

"You don't need any more liquor," Arthur said automatically. His mind was reeling with Merlin's lack of denial.

"I don't go to the tavern, clotpole," Merlin said with a sigh, "You know I can't hold my ale. Never could."

"So wh-"

"What do you think?" Merlin asked.

Richard looked from one to the other, "Shall I… go saddle my horse?" He asked tentatively.

"Good idea," Arthur snarled, "I have a few words to say to my _servant_."

* * *

**I now officially love Sir Richard. **

**-JC**


	8. The Sharp End of Destiny

**And number four: In a fevered writing frenzy, I scribbled this down in a hospital waiting room.**

**I've had this scene floating around in my head for years now. I only just remembered it. So here it is. The moment when Merlin panics. I've always wanted to see him reveal and not mean to, and then run. I don't know, it appealed to me.**

**And this ****_isn't_**** from the prompt from WhiteFires. It's just kind of similar. I have a separate idea for that one! :)**

**-JC**

**The sharp end of Destiny**

**A Merlin oneshot by Januscars**

Merlin felt his breathing hitch as he ran, a combination of fear and pain. The arrow in his leg was digging in deeper with every step, and he could felt he blood seeping through the rough fabric of his pants. That wasn't important though. The pain in his leg was nothing. Arthur's face was swimming in his mind's eye, the shock and hurt and betrayal so clear in his expression. Merlin had only used his magic to save him, but to Arthur, from the look on his face, it had been the ultimate betrayal. Merlin had acted on instinct. He had run. Now here he was, pounding through the forest, with an arrow in his leg and the sounds of crashing bushes behind him. Who was following? He didn't know.

He slid down a rough slope, rolling and crying out in pain as the arrow sheared through more of the meat on his thigh. He stumbled upright, and continued running. He heard his name being called – such a familiar voice, but carrying such anger that he shied away from it. His feet pounded the undergrowth, and he made for the nearest landmark on the horizon – the series of caves cut into the hillside. He tripped and fell, sobbing in fear and pain.

The rolling footsteps were still behind him, with more yelling. It was more indistinct now, he couldn't tell what they were shouting. It sounded like two, maybe three people. Arthur was one of them. Merlin could just see him now, leaping through the undergrowth with his sword at the ready. What would he do with that sword if he found Merlin?

The cave's entrance loomed dark in his vision, and he threw himself inside. He collided with one of the rocks with a cry, and fell to the ground. He shuffled himself backwards, into the darker recesses, hoping against hope that Arthur didn't have any torches. Unlikely. Merlin himself had carried them. He could hope that Arthur or the other knight's hadn't picked them up. But knowing his luck…

He wrapped his hand around the arrow shaft, and tried to ease it out of his leg. A roaring pain ripped through his thigh muscles and he whimpered. The head had a barbed end, which was tearing through his leg. He took a deep breath, and uttered a short spell, to ease its way out. It finally pulled free and fell with a clatter to the rocky ground. The blood began to run freely. He placed a hand over it, feeling his life trickle through his fingers. He should wrap it up. He should use a spell to heal it.

He heard more footsteps, shouting of "This way!" and the clash of flint as someone lit a flame. They had torches.

He struggled to his feet, and began to stumble further into the cave system. Footsteps began to echo off the cave walls, and he limped on, tears pouring down his face. His leg gave way, and he collapsed to the floor. There were whispers and pauses, but the knights would soon discover the trail of blood, and then they would find him.

Merlin pulled his arm out in front of him, and began to drag his body forward, toward the closest recess in the cave wall. He huddled into a ball, hoping against hope that the knights would pass him by,

He began to shiver. The cold was creeping into his bones. The blood dripped down his leg and pooled on the floor.

His head thudded onto the floor, sending a dull thump through his mind. His hands scrabbled on rock infested ground, trying to push himself further into the cold stone.

He saw a faint flickering light. It played across his face, and he realised that they had found him. He felt the tears dripping off his nose. His vision was beginning to fail, his head spinning. A pair of running feet, shouts and swords. He could see one of the blades fall to the floor in front of him, in a daze he felt a hand on his throat. Voices, shouting and screaming, he couldn't hear their words, but tried to move away from them. A hand clamped on his shoulder, and he gave a moan of fright.

But he couldn't hold on much longer. His eyes slipped close, his hand thumped to the floor.

He was vaguely aware of a pair of hands rolling him over, something tight being tied around his leg. Strong arms lifted him from the floor. His head lolled in space.

He heard his name, but it held no meaning.

* * *

Arthur collapsed in the clearing. Gwaine reached out a hand to help him up, but Arthur waved it away. Percival knelt down, releasing the sorcerer's body, letting it roll to the ground. Merlin landed with a soft thump, and didn't move.

Arthur held his face in his hands, as Gwaine and Percival began cleaning the wound of Merlin's leg with some of the water from the water skins. There was blood dripping on their hands, and Arthur glanced away. _His _blood. Merlin's blood.

Gwaine looked up at Arthur.

"What'll you do?" he asked, in a gruff voice. Arthur shook his head, without removing his hands from his face. Gwaine stood, walked over to sit in front of him. Arthur parted his fingers to peer at his knight. Gwaine looked pale and shocked, and had blood splattered on his face.

"Are you going to execute him?" he asked bluntly. Arthur tore his hands from his face as if it was a physical effort.

"I don't know. No, I don't think I can." He admitted, and then punched his thigh, "How could he do this?" he yelled, making Gwaine jump. Arthur bounded to his feet and began to pace, "How could he betray me? It's just…" He trailed off, and his hand clenched and unclenched around his sword hilt.

"I don't see how it's a betrayal," Gwaine called to his turned back, "As far as I can see, he just _saved_ your life."

"Yes, but that's not the point!" Arthur raged, "All these years he's been _lying _to me! Everything I've ever fought, all I've ever hated, and for god's sake he's one of them."

Gwaine frowned, and then tossed his hair to one side.

"Look, I know you're my king, and I am loyal to you. I'd do anything, for you and your kingdom. But," he rose, and stared Arthur in his furious face, "I won't let you hurt him."

Arthur stared at him in disbelief.

"Are you threatening your king?" He asked in incredulity, and mounting anger.

"I am loyal only to you, Arthur… almost. But I was friends with Merlin first. If it weren't for him I'd just be a rogue drunk navigating from tavern to tavern."

"You still are." Percival pointed out.

"Yes," Gwaine admitted, "But I'm also a knight, of the greatest kingdom on earth. He helped me become who I am and I'm not going to abandon him now."

"He lied to you as well," Arthur said stiffly. Gwaine shrugged.

"I know him. You know him. I don't believe Merlin would ever use magic against Camelot, and never against you."

"That isn't the point, and you know it," Arthur hissed, "For god's sake, maybe , if I'd known it would be-"

"If you'd known, if he'd told you, he'd be dead." Gwaine said flatly.

Arthur knew the truth in the words. He slumped back to the ground. His mind was running through those moments. _Those_ moments.

The look on Merlin's face. His eyes had glowed gold and the sword, an inch from Arthur's chest, had been flung from the opposing knight's grasp. Arthur could remember it all so clearly. His eyes had met Merlin's, his servant had stared at him, shock and horror and _fear_ on his face. Arthur had started towards him, and the boy had run. An arrow from the enemy hadn't stopped him. Arthur knew what pain an arrow could cause, and took a moment to appreciate what stakes would drive a man to run with that. Real, pure, unadulterated terror. Merlin had actually been afraid of him. A sorcerer, a person with power beyond Arthur's imagining, had been afraid of what he would do. Of what he would think.

Then Merlin's face when they had finally found him, shaking and crying, half-dead, deep in a labyrinth of caves. He had looked so dejected, like he was resigned to death. When Arthur had touched him he had flinched and tried to get away, but hadn't had the strength. Tears had been pouring from his eyes, and Arthur had, for a moment, forgotten his outrage and shock, seeing only Merlin, the hapless servant. He realised he had never really seen Merlin so scared. No battle, no monster, no threat had ever rendered him so helplessly terrified, but the thought of Arthur's anger had driven him to nearly kill himself. He hadn't even bothered to try and heal the wound, or bind it. He had left himself to die, hid away from them. If they hadn't found him he would have lain dead in that cave for years until someone else discovered his decomposing body.

Arthur found himself surprisingly glad that that wasn't what had happened. Furious though he was, at his lying servant and himself, he couldn't be anything but relieved that Merlin hadn't suffered that fate. A cold, dismal death in the dark. It wasn't the way he would want to go, Arthur felt sure.

Percival handed Arthur the half-empty water skin, and Arthur took a swig. He swirled it around in his mouth. There was a little blood mixed in with it from the fight, and he spat it out, before taking a more satisfying drink. He handed it back to Percival, who turned to leave.

"Wait," Arthur said, and looked at the two knights. Gwaine looked up from the shapeless pattern he had been drawing in the dirt, and Arthur took a deep breath before continuing, "What do you think?"

"Sire?" Percival queried. Arthur gestured to Merlin. Percival looked long and hard at the unconscious man, and then turned back to his king. He shrugged.

"I don't know. I really can't imagine Merlin doing anything against Camelot. We've known him for years, and he's always been a good friend and loyal companion. If he'd wanted to hurt you or Camelot, he would have tried. I don't think you have anything to fear from him."

"But what should I tell the people? What should I do?" Arthur sighed and sat down. These were the sort of conversations he had always had with Merlin. He had always given sage advice, hadn't he? He had even condemned magic when situation had called for it. But Arthur fancied that he could recall a look of trepidation, of guilt, as Merlin had done so.

Gwaine shuffled over to sit by Merlin, placing a hand on his forehead, "Well, you could just not mention it. He could carry on with his secrets, and we could just keep them as well. Having a secret sorcerer, now that sounds like an advantage."

"But some of the other knights saw." Arthur pointed out. Percival responded to that.

"Leon went with them. He'd keep them quiet until he heard from you."

"I suppose so," Arthur said slowly. He glanced around the clearing, "We might as well make camp for the night. I'll go and get firewood."

"I can do that," Gwaine said.

Arthur shook his head, "I need some time to think." He said quietly, and Gwaine nodded.

"I understand." He said with a smile, clapping a hand on Arthur's shoulder, "I'll give you a shout if anything happens."

* * *

"Gwaine!" came the cry from the clearing. Gwaine glanced up – it was about fifteen minutes since Arthur had left to get firewood, and nothing much had happened in that time. Until now, it would seem. He quickly made towards Percival, who was kneeling beside the unconscious warlock. Unconscious no more, apparently. Gwaine dropped to his knees beside the man, who was muttering something and twitching. Gwaine put a hand against his forehead, only to have Merlin jerk away and cover his head with his hands. He wasn't fully awake, but he wasn't totally insensible.

"Merlin?" Gwaine whispered, pulling gently at the arms around the servant's face. There was strong resistance, and a small sound of fright from beneath the layers of fabric. Gwaine placed a hand on his side.

"We're not going to hurt you, Merlin. Come on, it's alright." He felt odd comforting a sorcerer, but not odd comforting Merlin. He pushed aside his confusion and determinedly focussed his mind on Merlin, rather than magic.

The arms moved a little, and Gwaine could see Merlin's eyes through them. They were as sharp and bright as ever, if a little watery. Gwaine gave him a sincere smile, and the arms parted a little further.

"Welcome back," Gwaine said with a grin, "We thought we'd lost you for a while there. What'd you run off like that for?"

Merlin slowly unpeeled his arms from his face.

"You're not… angry? Afraid?" he asked in a dry voice. Gwaine put an arm under his head and helped him sit upright, pressing the water skin to his lips and making him drink, before replying. The familiar dip of the servant's Adam's apple made him grin.

"Well, a bit miffed you never told me, I'll admit. And highly shocked that you actually have talent," Merlin gave a tentative grin, "But… nah. Hey, you're Merlin. Sorcerer or not." Percival nodded his agreement, and passed Merlin a bowl of lumpy stew. The warlock took a tentative bite, still glancing warily between them.

"I never had a choice," he said bitterly between mouthfuls, "Destiny heaped it on me."

"I didn't really think you'd choose it, when all's said and done." Gwaine said, "Sounds like a bit too much trouble to bother with, especially in Camelot."

"You have no idea," Merlin said quietly.

There was a pause, in which Percival and Gwaine exchanged glances.

"So, while you're in a talking mood, and before Arthur gets back, because who knows what he'll do…" Merlin winced at Gwaine's words, and the knight put an arm around his shoulder, "How powerful actually are you? I mean, you're obviously not too bad."

Merlin laughed, and so Gwaine hazarded a guess.

"Pretty powerful?" He asked.

Merlin nodded slowly.

"Less powerful than Morgana?"

Merlin hesitated, and then shook his head.

"As powerful as Morgana?"

"More so," Merlin said softly. Gwaine blanched.

"How much more so?" he said incredulously. Merlin turned to look him in the eye.

"A lot more so." He said seriously.

The two knights were silent. Merlin set the bowl down on the closest bit of ground, and groaned, rubbing his eyes with his hands.

"What was that before, about destiny?" Gwaine asked, to relieve the tension a little. Merlin wrapped his arms around his knees.

"Destiny…" he said, "Is like a sword."

"How so?" Percival asked, moving closer. Merlin glanced between them again, looking at the earnest faces.

"Sometimes it's comforting," Merlin said, the words heavy on his tongue, "When you're alone and afraid, just the knowledge that it's there is consoling. It can kill. It can instil fear in those lower than you, and beat down those higher than you. But then, it can be used against you, it can turn on you. Like a sword, it has a sharp edge, and it'll just as soon as cut into you than you use it to cut into others."

He turned to stare the knights in the face.

"And Destiny is mostly like a sword at a peace conference. The sort of peaceful gathering when weapons are not allowed, as a symbol of friendship." His voice broke with a dry sob, "And it's the sort of sword that you can't drop, even if you desperately want to. So you have to hide it, because If it's found they'll take it as a threat and you'll die. Even though you have no choice about it. If they find about it, even if you physically cannot drop it, they'll kill you."

Gwaine and Percival were silent, contemplating this analogy. Merlin gave a dry laugh.

"I'd exchange Destiny for a decent sword any day. Except I'm not that great with a sword."

Merlin's eyelids began to flutter closed, and he muttered under his breath. Gwaine lay him back on the dirt and put his face closer to him.

"What?" he whispered. Merlin turned to look at him, and gave him a small smile.

"I've dreaded this moment all my life," he said in a practically silent voice. Gwaine put a hand on his.

"Come on. Get some rest. When Arthur gets back, you can explain it all to him. I think he might need a little more convincing than us."

* * *

"He woke for a bit and I managed to get him to acknowledge us, gave him a bit of water and some food. He answered a couple of questions, then he passed out again. He looked absolutely terrified,' Gwaine added as an afterthought.

Arthur nodded and crouched down beside the warlock. Merlin's breathing was perhaps a little easier than it had been before.

"What'd he tell you?" Arthur asked Gwaine, and the knight shrugged.

"When we managed to get him to uncover his face he asked if we were afraid or angry. I sort of said yes and no," Gwaine looked to Arthur for approval, but the king was still staring at his servant, "Then we started to talk, and he mentioned a lot about destiny, and not having a choice-"

Arthur scoffed disbelievingly, "There's always a choice." He said with venom. Gwaine shook his head.

"Not the way he was talking about it. He was born with it, and had to hide his whole life."

"That's what Morgana said." Arthur replied quietly. Gwaine sat down beside him.

"Merlin isn't Morgana, Arthur. He was scared of you, and what you would do to him."

Arthur nodded, and gestured for Gwaine to continue. The knight sat back and drew a hand over his face, "I asked him how powerful he was." He admitted. Arthur straightened at that, and stared Gwaine in the eyes.

"Did he tell you?" He asked, and Gwaine shrugged.

"More or less. I asked whether he was less or as powerful as Morgana."

"And his response?"

"That he was even more so." Percival finished.

Arthur shook his head, momentarily stunned, "More powerful than Morgana." He said flatly, "But how could we not have noticed? I mean, Merlin has never been able to keep secrets. He can't lie-"

"And a commoner can't become a knight." Put in Gwaine. Arthur looked confused, and Gwaine gestured to Percival, and then to the clearing in general as if to indicate his missing commoner compatriots. Arthur growled, and Gwaine continued, "But it happened. Never say _never_, Arthur, there's bound to be an exception."

Arthur ignored him and put out a hand to shake Merlin. Gwaine took a step closer.

"And Arthur," he added in an undertone, "He said one other thing. This was a moment he's been dreading and avoiding all his life. Please don't force it on him."

Arthur's hand paused.

"I need to talk to him." He said coldly, and roughly shook the warlock.

Merlin gave a piercing cry as the hand made rough contact, and rolled away from Arthur, waking to a frenzy of sudden fear. He lost control and came to a halt with his head against a rock, and then tried to scrabble upright. Arthur leapt towards, him, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and pinning him against a tree. Gwaine gave a cry of outrage, but Percival held him back before he could intervene.

Arthur held the struggling Merlin tight against the rough bark. The warlock's eyes were wide with fright, and his face was starting to turn red as the plated forearm slowly crushed his windpipe. Tears sprang to his eyes, and his finger scrabbled ineffectively over the cold metal. Arthur shoved his face closer to Merlin's.

"You lied to me," He hissed, "You are everything I've hated and hunted since I was old enough to hate and hunt. It's people like you I have been protecting the kingdom against for years."

"- -rthr-" Merlin choked, fingers beginning to grow sluggish.

Arthur released him with a cry of disgust, and Merlin collapsed in a heap on the cold ground. He coughed and held his neck, staring at Arthur with terror pounding on his face. Arthur grabbed his shirt again, and hauled him to his feet.

"How could you, Merlin?" he asked, and then shoved him backwards, "I trusted you, implicitly. I trusted you like I trusted no-one else, and now… Is there no-one I can trust? My Uncle, my sister, and now you?"

Merlin stumbled further at another violent shove from his master.

"You've been by my side for years! Years!" there was a third ferocious heave that sent Merlin sprawling. Arthur stood over him, anger blaring on his face.

"How could you do this to me?" he yelled. Merlin flinched violently, and threw up an arm to protect his face from the onslaught he was sure would come.

Arthur stared down at his servant, who was, he had no doubt, potentially one of the most powerful magic-users he had ever met. And yet Merlin was backing away from _him_, trying to protect himself from _him_. He could easily have used magic, but hadn't, even when Arthur had been _choking him,_ for god's sake.

When no blows came, Merlin slowly lowered his arm. Arthur saw the fear there, and felt ever so slightly guilty. This was Merlin, after all. And, though Arthur now knew the truth about him, he was still the same Merlin.

Somehow the magic made sense. All those times they had gone into battle; no ordinary servant could have survived the countless times Merlin had. The wise advice – it was all beginning to make sense. But the picture it created wasn't one of an evil sorcerer trying to bring the kingdom down. It was of a determined, frightened man, with powers beyond comprehension, and somehow Arthur couldn't condemn him for that.

Percival finally let Gwaine go, and the knight stumbled over to Merlin's side, placing himself between the furious king and the frightened warlock. Arthur stared him in the face.

"So you'd do it for a sorcerer, Gwaine." Arthur said dangerously, "You'd go back on your sacred oath, for a sorcerer."

"No." Gwaine said stiffly, anger sparking in his eyes, "For my friend. I don't see how this make him evil Arthur. In fact, it makes him less so. He'd reveal his secret, risk punishment and death to save your life. Does that sound evil?"

Merlin stood. He put a hand on Gwaine's shoulder, and Gwaine looked at him.

As the knight moved aside, Merlin took a step forward.

"You can't possibly hate me any more than I hate myself, Arthur," he said, "but you're right, and Gwaine is wrong. I'm a monster, and you should kill me."

Arthur felt his knees wobble. Merlin' eyes filled with tears, "You don't know what it's like. To be a monster. I don't deserve to serve you any more than Morgana does. I don't deserve your friendship." He gestured to Arthur's sword, "But if you're going to do it, please do it now. I can't put Gaius through seeing me die. He… wouldn't be able to stand it."

Arthur drew the sword, and looked at it. Merlin closed his eyes, and Gwaine started forward to counter the king. But something held him back.

Arthur looked up at Merlin, who opened his eyes. They were glowing gold.

"If you're going to do it," he said in a choked voice, "Do it now."

Gwaine cried out and struggled to move, but Merlin's magic prevented him.

Arthur looked him in the eyes. Merlin stared back, meeting his gaze with determination. This was what he wanted, rather than face a lifetime of Arthur's anger and suspicion.

The sword dropped to the floor.

"You know I can't do that." Arthur said coldly. He turned to the horses, "We ride for Camelot. We can't afford to wait for daybreak. Gwaine, the prisoner will ride with you."

Merlin's injured leg collapsed, and he staggered. Gwaine let him drop into his arms. The knight held him close, breathing heavily from the struggle and terror.

"Shouldn't you tie him up, sire, if he's a prisoner?" Percival asked. Arthur shrugged.

"I would, but there's no rope."

Gwaine used his free hand to gesture to the coil of unused rope hanging from one of the saddles, "There's some."

Arthur picked up the rope, and tossed it into the trees.

"No there isn't, Sir Gwaine." He replied, "The prisoner will have to go unbound, I'm afraid."

.

* * *

**Good god, that was supposed to be a short one.**

**So the sword analogy is over used. I tried to put a different spin on it. Sorry.**

**-JC**


	9. Burn

**And your fifth and final Christmas present from me. Now, I've never found a fic like this, so I decided to write it myself. It's a little horrible. No, it's VERY horrible. I hated myself while writing it. Merlin the Teddy was yelling at me. I'm sorry MtT. And, let's face it, it is really skimming the boundaries of the 'T' rating. Shh. Don't tell. It'll be the last graphic one, I hope. **

**It's not exactly a reveal fic. But I'll put it in anyway, because it's almost a reveal fic. It's an after reveal fic. It ****_might_**** be a little OOC. I hope not. Oh well.**

**Set during Uther's reign. Far enough into it that Arthur and Merlin are firm friends. The title says all.**

**I'm really sorry. I swear, I'm sorry.**

**-JC**

**Burn**

**A Merlin oneshot by Januscars**

"_I thought you were my friend!"_

_"A sorcerer in my walls, servant to my _son_!"_

_"You betrayed us all!"_

_"I saved your life, I'm always saving your life! You never notice, do you? I have always-"_

_"Silence! You have no right to speak!"_

_"You stand accused of the practising of magic…"_

_"I thought you were my friend…"_

_"You shall be burnt at the stake at dawn."_

* * *

Arthur stood outside the cell. He could hear crying within, soft tears and ragged breath. The voice, the sobs, they were all so familiar. Merlin – a man he had grown to care for, a friend, his only friend it sometimes seemed. And yet he had lied, he was an enemy, and one of the greatest enemies to the kingdom, an enemy with magic.

But Arthur couldn't see it. He couldn't see an evil Merlin. No, in these past years, he could only remember the bumbling idiot, the faithful servant. He could remember the wisdom and the banter and the joking voice.

Now all he could hear was tears.

His footsteps clicked against the cold stone, and the crying from within cut off immediately. He wrapped his hand around the bars that created the door, and fitted the key. The figure in the cell stared at him, eyes wide and scared, and yet determined… Arthur closed the door behind him, and stood, looking down at the man curled in the corner. Merlin avoided his gaze. He picked at the floor with his fingernails. Tears still snaked their way down his nose.

"How could you?" Arthur asked in a whisper. Merlin didn't respond. His fingers scratched away at the stone, lip trembling slightly as he did so. Arthur took a step forward, and Merlin flinched slightly, expecting a blow. Arthur's fingers clenched.

"You were my friend. You lied."

"_I had to_." Merlin whispered in a dry voice. He wrapped his arms around his knees, and rested his chin on his legs, not bothering to hold the tears back now, letting them free.

Arthur was at a loss for words.

"I can't do anything about my father's sentence. I tried. But he won't change his mind. I can't help you." He said coldly. Merlin nodded. Arthur glanced around, and, after making sure that the guards weren't within earshot, continued, "Tonight is your last night. If you choose to run, I won't hunt you. I can do that much."

Merlin looked up at him, eyes wide. Arthur looked uncomfortable for a second, but then smoothed his expression over. He sat down on the small bench that served as a bed. Merlin shook his head.

"_I can't."_ he whispered again. Arthur held his face in his hands.

"Why not? It would make this all so much simpler."

"These chains, these manacles. I can't perform magic with them on. They're enchanted themselves. Seems a bit.. hypocritical." He gave a little gasp of pain.

Arthur looked up. Merlin stared at him, shaking slightly, "It hurts." He said softly, "They hurt me, right here."

He tapped his head, and then his chest. A pale sheen of sweat washed over his forehead.

"So that's how it ends." Arthur said flatly, "You die tomorrow."

"Perhaps." Merlin said with a gulp, "It's the chains. I can't do anything. If I get the chance, maybe…"

Arthur looked down at him.

"I can get you out, Merlin," he said, crouching down and whispering to his friend, "I can do that for you. There aren't many people I'd do it for, but I'll do it for you."

Merlin smiled quietly, "I appreciate it, Arthur. But you can't risk it."

"I don't want to watch you die," Arthur hissed, but Merlin raised a hand.

"I never said I couldn't do it myself." He said in a whisper. Arthur looked at him, "I can escape, as long as I am without these chains."

"And what if you can't?" Arthur said thickly.

Merlin looked up at him, "If I can't, then there's nothing you can do. You're destined to become King, and there's nothing I won't do to bring that day. Including dying."

Arthur put a hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. He looked behind him, to see the guards coming back to stand outside the cell.

"If it helps," Arthur said in an emotionless voice, "I'll watch until the end."

"Clotpole." Merlin said with a coughing sob, as the guards closed the door behind the prince.

* * *

Arthur was watching him. Merlin could feel it. He could feel the prince's stare burning into him. He turned to glance at the crowd, and saw Gaius, right at the front. Merlin had admitted to having deceived the old man, who had been pardoned out of ignorance and loyal service. The look on his face… Merlin gave him a small smile, and Gaius returned it, chin wobbling a little. He, like Arthur, knew Merlin planned to escape. This was no way for a warlock of his power to die.

Gwen stood behind him, tears pouring unashamedly down her face. Her hands were pressed against her mouth, trying to prevent her from crying out. Merlin tried to send her reassurance, and resorted to magic.

_I'm sorry,_ he thought at her, and she shook her head violently. _Don't be,_ she mouthed at him, and he smiled.

_Look after Arthur for me._ He thought again. She nodded, and then burst into a fit of sobs. Gaius wrapped an arm around her, and looked straight into Merlin's eyes.

_I'm sorry Gaius._

Gaius shook his head. Merlin's eyes misted over.

"Merlin, former servant to Arthur Pendragon, you stand accused of acts of sorcery within the wall of Camelot. You are sentenced to be burnt at the stake until dead. Do you have any last words?"

Merlin looked up at the king, and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them.

"Long live the Prince." He said, loud enough for all to hear, although he spoke in a normal voice. Uther looked down upon him, eyes blazing with anger.

"Do not mock my son, sorcerer." He spat. Merlin continued to look up at him.

"Long live the King." He said, a little louder. Uther looked taken aback.

"These are your last words?" He asked. Merlin nodded. Arthur's eyes were riveted on him, and Merlin could see him shaking.

"So be it," hissed the King. Arthur was shaking with more and more ferocity, as Merlin was manhandled up to the pyre.

He was ready now, to use his magic, to leave, to flee, but before he could utter a spell, something cold slapped around his wrist. Thick iron manacles.

His stomach contracted, and he convulsed at their touch. Those chains.

He tried to use his magic, to send Arthur a message, one last thing his master could remember him by. But the magic wouldn't work. He struggled against the bonds. The knight who held him looked away. He was one that Merlin knew – Merlin knew most of the knights, being the one that cleaned many of their armours and brought them flagons of cool water on hot days during training. Merlin let out a gasp, as he was secured to the pole. He couldn't move – and more importantly, his magic could not move him.

Arthur was shaking violently now, fist clenching at his sides. Merlin was looking straight at him, and the prince mouthed something.

_Until the end._

Merlin felt tears fall down his cheeks.

_I'm sorry._ He mouthed back. Arthur pressed a hand to his mouth, arm shaking with such tremors that the hand slipped over his chin. His lips were pressed together, so that they were white with the force exerted on them.

The flame dipped lower. Merlin watched it's descent, and suddenly Gaius seemed to realise that there was something wrong. Merlin wasn't escaping. He let loose a shout, but Gwen and one of the knights held him back. The flame licked the wood, catching it alight in a few seconds. It didn't take long for the wood to fully catch ablaze. He could feel the heat building, hear the crackle of the flames, and couldn't do anything about it, couldn't do anything but watch as the flames drew closer.

Then one latched onto his shoe – that stupid fabric caught instantly. The fire began to lick away at his toes, and he let loose a scream. He could feel his flesh being eaten away, feel the fire clawing it's way to his bones. He shook and tore at the ropes, at the manacles, but they held him tight. What an ironic end, he thought, killed on the orders of a man he'd protected.

The hem on his pants was engulfed, and the fire spread rapidly up his legs. Soon his shirt was caught as well, and he screamed in agony at the fire bit at his face. He could feel it in his hair, tearing away at clumps of it. The pole was now alight, and it burnt at his back.

He felt a presence, a huge, ancient presence. The Great Dragon, roaring in his head.

_"No! MERLIN!" _his voice thundered through the warlock's flaming skull.

_Please, stop it, stop the pain,_ Merlin silently begged. Immense sorrow, and pure anger was washing over him, from the dragon's mind. An image of the dragon wreaking havoc upon the city, tearing it to rubble to find the dying warlock filled Merlin's mind. _No, _he thought, _perhaps Arthur-_ But he couldn't finish the sentence, as the flames began to tear at his face.

_Please, the pain, make it stop- _ he was sobbing now, begging for a relief, both out loud and in his mind. Arthur looked like he was going to faint.

The dragon's mind touched his, and a soothing calm washed over his tortured body. The flames suddenly seemed less, the biting, tearing sensation dulled to soft pricks of needles. The dragon extended his magic, trying to lower the flames, but it was too late. Merlin was beyond repair.

He took a deep breath, and exhaled immediately, as a hot coal was sucked between his teeth. He coughed and choked, and spat it out, sliding down the pole as the ropes burned through. Arthur was right in front of him. His face was haggard and torn, grief twisting it in a mask. Merlin, from his position, crouched on the pyre, stared into his eyes. Though the pain was going, he could feel his flesh crisping.

His eyes filled with tears, that disappeared as they touched the fire that ate into his cheek. His eyes started to fade, his vision disappearing. Arthur was running forward, god it was too late, what was he doing? Merlin could hear Arthur's voice echoing, his name. The Dragon's grief was wracking Merlin's body, a final farewell from his old friend.

His mouth forced itself into a smile, a grin that, on his wrecked and ravaged face, looked unholy. But to Arthur… He recognised it. That stupid, crooked grin. The eyes, those eyes stared into his, and it was almost as if Merlin was speaking in his head. But he couldn't be.

_I always wondered,_ Merlin thought hazily, _why all the other sorcerers allowed themselves to be killed._

_"They had not choice, young warlock," _ The dragon's voice echoed in his ears, and he took comfort in those final words. "_You will be missed. Especially by me."_

Merlin felt his breath beginning to run out.

_Help me speak to him,_ he cried desperately. Kilgharrah's mind was suddenly detached from his, and in an instant the pain returned. The few nerves still undamaged flared in a burst of agony. Merlin screamed in torment and writhed against the pole, arching his back to pull as much of his body away as possible. But then the dragon was back, and he fell in a senseless heap, away from the pole.

The manacles lay on the floor, his charred and broken hands still in them.

Merlin pulled himself away from the pole, two blackened stumps all that was left of his arms. His eyes stared into Arthur's.

_Forgive—_he thought desperately, and Arthur flinched, reaching out a hand to him. _No,_ he was mouthing – or was he screaming? Merlin couldn't tell.

_Merlin!_ Arthur's voice cried in his head. Merlin lifted up a hand, and his eyes glowed.

_Forgive- - me… _he thought. Through his mind, his magic, he sent Arthur images, of them laughing, fighting, talking. He sent him feelings and thoughts. He sent him the truth. He sent him every time he had saved the prince's life. He sent him his love, his friendship, his devotion and dedication. All the good times, all the bad times, and every time in between.

Arthur dropped to his knees. _Merlin,_ his thought desperately, _I'm sorry_.

_Don't be…_ the voice in his head replied, _I forgive you._

Kilgharrah was keening in Merlin's head, a soft lament for an agonised, dying friend. Merlin felt his mind lulled by the call.

_Remember me._ He thought sluggishly. The keening grew gentler, more musical.

_"Sleep, Merlin." _Kilgharrah whispered.

Merlin's last image was of Arthur, face torn in grief, mouthing the words _I'm sorry._ A dragon's keening lament filled his ears.

Then there was nothing, other than blessed freedom from pain.

* * *

The prince stood by the pyre. The tortured body had long since stopped smoking. He found himself searching the face for some vestige of his friend. But there was none. Just his memories, and the images he had been given. They were like a book, and he found himself flicking through them. He knelt down in front of the dead warlock, and felt tears dribbled down his face.

"I should have stopped it." He said, reaching out to touch the blackened face. The guards that were instructed to take the body away for disposal stood back at his insistence, and averted their eyes, moving some distance away to give the prince some privacy.

"You did all of that, for me, and I couldn't do this one thing for you."

He delved back into the pages, pulling out images of Merlin smiling along with him, laughing and happy. He could feel the Warlock's thoughts and emotions swelling in him, the pride and the devotion primary. That hint of fear and sadness standing in the background, always there. He felt Merlin's annoyance at his task, his unthanked, unacknowledged task. But he felt that loyalty and determination. He felt the pride that had momentarily swelled in Merlin's chest, as he had cried 'Long live the prince' and 'Long live the King.' He had meant it.

Arthur kicked at the pyre, sending charred wood in a cloud and injuring his toe as he did so. He fell to the floor, holding onto his foot, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He pushed his face against the hot wood, feeling the slight pain as it became that little bit too hot. What pain was that? It was nothing, nothing compared to what Merlin had had to face.

He breathed in deeply to calm his heartbeat. A slightly smoky smell - He blanched and retched. It was Merlin, he was breathing in _Merlin. _That burnt smell, like roasted meat, god, it was _Merlin._ He would never be able to stomach roasted meat again. He staggered to his feet, stomach heaving. He held a hand over his mouth.

His eyes roved over the blackened corpse. Merlin, Merlin, _Merlin…_

He whispered the name under his breath. "_Merlin, Merlin, Merlin..."_

He fell back to his knees, whispering the name like a mantra.

The lonely figure knelt by the pyre for many minutes. The time ticked by, and in that time, only the prince's mouth moved. Tears dripped down his nose.

Then he rose. His fingertips brushed over the corpse, closing the gaping lids with a soft crunching noise that left flakes of skin in his hands. He held them in a fist, raising the fist to his lips, pressing the hand into his face. His shoulders shook.

Then he lowered the hand. The ashes clung to his palm.

He turned on his heel and left the courtyard, leaving the charred body of a servant behind.

* * *

He scattered the ashes in secret. Only a few, but he felt he owed the warlock that. He found a spot in the forest, near a river. The grass was soft beneath his feet.

He let the ashes drift away on the wind, a few spiralling into the river, but most drifting to the ground amongst the flowers.

For a moment, the woody smell of the forest turned to a smoky, charred scent. Then the air was fresh once more.

_ ._

* * *

**Did you like it? Are you happy? Nice Christmas present? You must repay tme for my services. With reviews. :D Please? It'd be a great gift! I could ask for nothing more. Please?**

**I personally always wondered why the sorcerers never prevented their own deaths. This is my explanation – Uther's a hypocrite.**

**Oh, and, ohmygod, I have to mention. Tomorrow, the Hobbit is released in Australia. TOMORROW! I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR IT FOR YEARS! YAY! Whereas, some lucky people got it on the 14****th****. :P I'M SO EXCITED!**

**Love from me, and Merlin the Teddy! **

**MERRY CHRISTMAS, AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR!**

**-JC**


	10. Sleeping

**Sleeping**

**A Merlin oneshot by Januscars**

**For Irysiiea**

.

* * *

It was perhaps the only occasion on which Merlin was supremely glad that the sorcerer that was attacking Camelot knew who he was. If it had happened any other way, he would have been out for the count along with all the other nobles. However, this sorcerer was young and cocky, and was determined to prove his worth. And that meant by defeating Merlin.

At least, that's what Merlin (wrongly) assumed.

He was standing in the throne room, staring around desperately at the prone figures scattered around the tables, frozen in their actions, be it sitting or standing. The nobles were paused mid chew, in mid conversation, or (like Gaius), simply staring off into space with an empty fork halfway towards their mouth. If the situation hadn't been deadly serious, Merlin would have taken the time to savour the expressions on many of the faces. If he had been able to paint their faces, the pictures produced would have been a reliable source of blackmail for years.

What had happened- or, more precisely, _who_ had happened? Who was powerful enough to produce such a spell? What sort of spell would freeze the nobles in such a manner? A sleeping spell perhaps? He'd dealt with sleeping spells before. But their eyes were open and bodies rigid… They were still breathing, thank god, but it was little comfort. Why hadn't he been taken under as well? Surely any attacking sorcerer wouldn't take the risk of leaving anyone free to defend the castle, even just a servant.

The other servants were paused, bent over the table, or kneeling to pick up cloths or spilled food. They had all been frozen - why not him? The answer was obvious: as per usual, he was being singled out.

He sighed. So it was left to him. Again. It was beginning to get rather monotonous.

Except this time there was no evil laughter and swirling of cloaks. There was no sinister shadows. No clicking heels as the attacker advanced menacingly. No creatures swooped out of the darkness and there were (most surprisingly) no undead creatures lurking in corridors. No, there was just a man, dressed in normal clothes, making his way out of the comically frozen crowd. He was obviously the spell caster. He smiled at Merlin, seeing the servant's confusion and anger.

"Emrys." He said respectfully, bowing. Merlin stared at him, edgy, wary and more than slightly disconcerted.

"_What_?" he asked. Perhaps not the best example of witty replies, but it was all that sprang to mind. How did this man know his name? Was it really that obvious? Now that apparently all and sundry could identify him by the druidic title, he wondered why Morgana was still so clueless. Perhaps she wasn't as smart as he thought she was.

"What have you done?" Merlin asked the sorcerer angrily, staring around him. The man shruggedin a highly infuriating and cocky manner.

"Sleeping spell." He said simply.

"What, with their eyes open?" Merlin asked incredulously, "Standing up?"

The man held out a hand, "Indeed, Emrys. My name is Kay. I came to seek peace with you."

"Well this is a great way of doing it," Merlin said sarcastically, "If you want to seek peace, a good way to do it would be talking to the king. Which involves keeping him _awake._"

Kay shook his head, "I do not seek peace with Camelot. I seek peace with you."

"Me?" Merlin said in surprise, "Why do you need peace with me? I'm just a-"

"You are Emrys." Kay interrupted immediately, "It is with you that this power ultimately rests."

Merlin took a moment to feel very slightly flattered, before returning his mind to the matter at hand, "That doesn't mean you knock out the court. If you want to talk to me, you could just, oh, I don't know, knock on my door? _Ask_ to see me? These dramatics aren't necessary." Merlin didn't bother denying what Kay said.

Kay proffered his hand again, "Then you are indeed Emrys?" Merlin crossed his arms.

"Wake them up again, and leave," he said solidly, neither confirming nor denying, "Your offer of peace must extended to the king, and no-one else."

Kay lowered his hand slowly, "But I care not for the king. He is yet another in a long line of murderers. You have the real power. If you side with us, we could take over Camelot, we could bring on a new age of peace-"

"Right." Merlin sighed, "I've heard this before. Bring on a 'new age of peace and prosperity, where the persecuted become free, and magic shall be accepted once more'… You were going to say something along those lines?"

Kay nodded wordlessly, still smiling.

"Sorry," Merlin said, "But everyone who tried to do that ended up either killing innocents, or getting killed themselves."

"You would rather side with a tyrant than your kin?" Kay asked incredulously, unfolding his arms and surveying Merlin with what could only be described as dismay.

Merlin stepped forward to bridge the gap between them, "Arthur is not a tyrant. He is a good king, and will be a good king as long as I'm still breathing. You think, just because you have magic you can defeat me? Do you know how many have tried? Do you know how many dark enchantresses, and necromancers and seers and prophets and torturers and plain old evil sorcerers have tried to kill me? I can tell you: Hundreds. I can't even count how many times. And, you don't seem to get it," he was practically nose to nose with the boy now, "I'm still standing. I defeated them all, mostly single-handed. I have never, will never, waver from Arthur's side, not now, not then, and not in the future. So go on, run back to your clan, your friends, and spread the word - don't bother. Emrys is staying, and Emrys will protect the king as long as he lives."

Kay's face turned thunderous, "You are a traitor to your own kind," he spat, "Serving when you could be so much."

Merlin shook his head, "But I don't need it," he said, "I'm happy to serve, I always have been. Why should I take what is rightfully someone else's?"

"He is not the rightful heir, he is a murderer and he shall pay. Morgana will-"

"_Don't speak that name to me!"_ Merlin roared, eyes brightening, and the flames on the candles around them flaring up, "Morgana chose her path. She chose to hurt where she could help. And I can say only one thing - if you side with her, you will die. Whether it be by my hand or hers. If there is one thing you must know about Morgana, it is this: she loves no-one but _herself_. I might spare you if I had need to kill you, because I value life. But don't think for one second that she will. The only life she values is her own, to no exception." The shadows around the room were lengthening, casting him in shadow, making the flames on the table cast flickering patterns dancing upon his cheekbones. A little piece of instinctive magic, driven by the need to intimidate. Usually highly effective.

Kay righted himself. He glared at Merlin.

"I see. You will protect your king at the expense of your own kind."

Merlin growled, "Arthur will free magic one day. It is people like Morgana who every day work towards the freedom of magic, but merely strengthen his hatred. Magic can be used for so many things, and yet all you do is kill and hurt and _fight_."

"Magic is not to be persecuted as it is!" Kay protested.

Merlin swept a hand in a gesture at the world in general, "Look at it from his perspective, Kay! He sees a world where every day magic tries to hurt him and his people. Why should he not hate it? I'd hate it, if I weren't born with it! But I've been using it for good - I've protected the people, I've healed them and defended them. You think I am a weapon, and tool that can be put to your own uses. But I am not, and you and all others should know that."

Kay laughed, and tossed back his head, "You think you are so great, and yet you grovel and beg before a tyrant!"

Merlin yelled now, "Who put you up to this? You can't be working alone, who helped you?"

"It matters not." Kay said, that smug little smile still on his face.

"It matters to me," Merlin hissed, "Because I know that sooner or later I'm going to have to face them, and probably defeat them. Who would want to single me out?"

Kay didn't move. "Take your pick, Emrys. It is certainly someone you have betrayed - so you only have all magic users to choose from."

"Have I wronged _you_ in some way?" Merlin asked, "Why so much hatred?"

Kay looked up at him.

"It is not me that you have wronged, Emrys, it is your own kind. You are the greatest of us, and yet you grovel and serve a worthless murderer."

Merlin's eyes narrowed in anger, and his hands shot forward, tossing the man backwards with a blast of magic.

"Arthur is not worthless, and never will be," he hissed advancing on the boy, "I have done much, and been given little, I have given others credit where perhaps it should be mine, but sometimes," his face and voice softened, and he bent down to haul Kay to his feet, "sometimes you have to do things for others. Not for yourself."

Kay ripped his arm from Merlin's grip and took a step back, "I looked up to you," he said in a hurt voice, "I was told about Emrys, the great man who will bring back magic. I spent my life waiting for you-" His voice broke, "The greatest sorcerer on earth, I was willing to follow you and help you and now-" He glared at Merlin, "And you're nothing but a worthless _traitor!_" Kay screamed the last word and his eyes flashed. The room trembled slightly, as the boy raised his hand.

"Don't," Merlin said quietly, "I don't want to fight, I don't want to hurt you. This isn't your fault."

"No," Kay snarled, "It's yours." His eyes glowed, and he sent a ball of fire at Merlin. The warlock simply flicked it aside.

"Stop this," Merlin insisted, "There is no need to fight!"

Kay was amassing a far greater spell, Merlin could feel it. He leapt upwards to stand protectively in front Arthur.

It was a tidal wave of fire. It did not smite the ground, but Merlin could feel the intense heat instantly. The sheer mass of flames billowed from the sorcerer's outstretched palms, crackling and threatening to engulf him and all the men behind him. Including Arthur. Now _that_ wasn't going to happen.

Merlin held out a hand and his eyes flashed. It was a powerful spell to be sure, and had it been anyone other than Merlin it would have been practically impossible to completely deflect.

But, let's face it, being an all-powerful warlock does have perks.

He threw his arms wide and yelled. A spell would have taken too long - it was now reactionary, non-verbal spells. He let the magic out to cocoon the enveloping flames. They rolled around each other and coalesced into a large ball of white hot heat. Kay jerked back in shock, and the sheet of flames cut off. Merlin pulled back his hands and the ball shrank even further, becoming so intense in concentrated heat that Kay shielded his face.

"I have withstood the breath and flame of the Great Dragon," Merlin hissed, "Do not think such displays will intimidate me."

Kay's eyes flashed, and chunks of marble and stone from the walls and floor ripped themselves off and hurled themselves at Merlin, who held up a hand and let the magic crush the rocks in his path.

"You do not know how to use magic," Merlin said angrily, "You twist it and tear it, you order it! You must ask it, or it will not obey you."

Kay attempted to throw him back, but Merlin grabbed him magically and held him in place.

"So many have tried, Kay. So many sorcerers have been prepared to give their lives to try and kill Arthur, and you know what? They're dead. I would like to see you _try _to defeat me."

Kay looked up at him, not struggling, a smile playing over his lips.

"Defeat you?" he said, laughter entering his voice, "I already have."

Merlin stared at him.

"The spell I used upon the nobles around you. I made sure of it - they were conscious the entire time. Every word you spoke, every move you made. They saw and heard it _all_, including," Kay sneered, "your precious King."

Merlin stared at him, paused as if the full meaning of the words spoken had not fully hit him.

"No," he said, fear climbing over his features for the first time, "But-"

Kay smiled, "You have killed yourself, Emrys. Join me, join us, leave Camelot and your life shall be spared."

"You really think a death sentence would kill me?" Merlin roared, "I've protected these people far too long-"

"And now your friends, the people you love so much, the people you'd die for, will hate you. How does that feel Emrys?"

"My name," Merlin hissed, "Is Merlin. I am not defined by my magic. You shall not define me, and they shall not."

Kay smiled, "Have fun explaining that to them," he said serenely. Merlin grabbed his shirt.

"When magic is free perhaps you will realise why I stand where I stand." he said quietly, face inches from the boy's features.

Kay stared at him.

"You will not stand at your king's side for much longer." The boy said in building triumph, "Your king shall cast you aside, and you shall be nothing."

"I'm willing to take that risk." Merlin said, "But I wouldn't expect you to understand."

Kay pulled himself out of Merlin's grip, and backed away. Merlin stood still, staring at the boy in a combination of anger and obvious terror at his situation. Kay turned to look at the frozen king. Merlin sank to his haunches, looking up at the frozen king.

"Do you see it, Emrys? Defeat?" Kay smiled, turning to Merlin, "Defeat is coming Emrys, he is laughing at you."

Merlin looked up at Kay, shaking his head.

"I know what it's like to hide, Kay. I know what it's like to hate yourself for what you are. I know what it's like to think you're a monster. And I _know_ Arthur's a prat." Merlin gave a strangled laugh, "But he isn't his father. The father was all that you accuse the son of, and yet we cannot choose our families."

Kay shook his head, "You saved Uther's life, many times."

"Of course," Merlin said, lowering himself to his knees, clenched fists pressing into the floor, concious now of the frozen gaze of the people, the people who could hear his every word -"I cannot kill someone simply for their prejudices. I met him. I've served him wine, I've polished his armour. Maybe he persecuted magic wrongly, perhaps he can fairly be called a murderer. But now he is dead, and I can only protect Arthur. You of all people should understand - you should not be condemned for something you cannot control, for how you are, or who you were born as."

Kay smiled, "You speak with a twisted tongue. The great Emrys, most powerful sorcerer, who's mind has been stolen by magic's ultimate enemy. Arthur has infected your mind, he is a sickness within you. It is an ill I must take it upon myself to cure. Now you shall die by your king's hand. It does not matter what kind of a friend you are to him. To a Pendragon, all magic means evil."

"Not to Arthur," Merlin said, "Not to him."

"You'd better hope," Kay said, eye beginning to glow. The words flowed off his tongue, and Merlin could feel the magical tension release.

"Goodbye Emrys," Kay said, "We shall not meet again." He turned, flicking his hair back dramatically and stalking out haughtily. If the situation hadn't been so heart-stopping, Merlin might have laughed.

There was a loud crash, as the prone servant leaning over Gwen dropped his jug of wine and collapsed to the floor. The room was suddenly alive with movement, stares and gasps and shouts. Merlin felt his head spinning, was it from shock? Terror? He did not know. He felt a little sick, and pressed a hand to his head.

He staggered to his feet. The room was spinning, but there was no need to focus on one person in particular, because they all wore the same face. Shock, horror, revulsion and anger.

He turned and ran. It was instinct. He shoved his way past the weak and befuddled guards and flew out of the room. He heard the shouts and mass scraping of chairs as people leapt to chase him. He heard Arthur's voice above the rest, yelling his name.

Like that was going to happen.

He practically threw himself down the first flight of stairs, tripping and rolling halfway. There was a soft thud as he hit his head painfully on the marble floor, and vaguely had the impression of blood on his neck. But the clanking footsteps, they were so close now -

He leapt up again and tore down the corridors. The warning bells were pealing in his ears, reverberating in his head. God it hurt, it hurt. He was rushing down these familiar corridors, with the knights of Camelot chasing him, Arthur at the fore, practically baying for his blood.

This was his worst nightmare come true.

He stared around. Which way had he come? Where was he? And, more importantly, where were the people chasing him? He heard their footsteps close, but could not tell which direction they were coming from. He must have hit his head harder than he had thought, because the footsteps seemed to come from all sides. He shied away, looking desperately for somewhere to hide.

They were so close. Merlin spied a broom cupboard at the end of the corridor, and leapt into it. Not the best hiding place, to be sure, but there weren't really any other options.

The majority of the boots stamped right past him, and for once, he was reverently thankful of the apparent less than average intelligence of the regular Camelot guard.

He pressed his ear to the wood, listening to the clattering steps fade away. He could hear them shouting, screaming for all guards to search every nook and cranny. There was a few more coming up the corridor, so he shrank back, as if it would hide him if the door were opened.

One pair of feet stopped outside his cupboard. _No, no no no, don't check inside, please…_ He saw the door move, a hand pulling it open to look inside. Rough fingers, a blast of red, a blonde head-

Arthur. The King was standing there, sword hanging uselessly at his side, looking into the cupboard. Merlin stared at him, shaking now, with terror. Arthur was looking right at him, into his eyes.

The king shook his headslightly, eyes boring inot Merlin's.

Then Arthur closed the door.

"He's not here," he called to the rest of the knights, "Keep moving." someone called out a question, and Arthur answered in exasperation, "Well I don't know! He's a sorcerer! Move out, search for both of them. Neither is to leave, do you understand?"

It was then that Merlin fainted.

* * *

He woke a few minutes later, still in the cupboard. The door was closed, but he could see the silhouette of someone standing outside of it. He pressed his face to the crack between the two doors, seeing the chainmail and Camelot red of a knight, as well as an unruly mop of brown hair.

The man turned, and saw his eye peeking between the gap.

"Merlin!" came a familiar voice in a whisper, and Merlin could have cried with happiness, "Stay in there! There's a guard coming!"

There was a rhythmic thud of boots, as a couple of guards hurried past them.

Gwaine stuck his head back in the cupboard, "Stay in there mate," he said, "We'll wait until we capture the other one. We'll get you out of here."

Mate. Merlin had never been so glad to hear that word.

Gwaine paused, and looked Merlin up and down. His eyes hesitantly crinkled into a sad little smile.

"I've got to say it," he said, "That was bloody amazing. You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

Merlin looked on in silence, and Gwaine eventually closed the door again as regular footsteps beat their way past.

* * *

Many minutes past. It was dark inside the cupboard, and Merlin shuffled backwards to settle next to the buckets. It was a rather large broom cupboard, but it was still extemely uncomfortable. Still, he preferred it to the alternative - being killed. He whispered quietly, and a small light appeared in his cupped hands. Small comfort. He held it close, and revelled in the warmth it produced. God, the cupboard was cold. Here he was, on the run from his best friend, complaining about the temperature of the cleaning facilities. He might have laughed - if his death, or at least banishment, wasn't so imminent.

Gwaine still stood outside, waiting for something - Merlin wasn't sure what.

It soon became apparent, as a group of footsteps came closer, and Gwaine opened the door a crack. Merlin quickly closed his hands and the light extinguished itself.

"Merlin, it's just us, okay?" Gwaine said. Merlin looked at him, long and hard. There was fear in that face. Fear that had never been there before. Fear of Merlin.

Another voice came from outside the door.

"Is he coming? We have to get him somewhere safe-"

Gwaine opened the door the whole way, to show Percival and Leon also standing by. But the figure to Gwaine's left was the one that held Merlin's attention. Arthur.

The King saw his gaze and held out a hand.

Merlin eyed him warily. The King was torn, Merlin could see it on his face. An insane mixture of shock, horror, disgust and… pride? Was that even possible?

"Did you mean everything you said?" Arthur asked, and Merlin turned away slightly.

"I didn't know you were listening," he said, "I thought he'd…"

Gwaine leant forward and touched a hand to Merlin's neck, "Damn, Merlin, you're bleeding."

Merlin put a hand up to the base of his skull and felt a warm flow of blood drip over it. He looked at his fingers incredulously, realising that there actually was quite a lot. Gwaine grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the cupboard, glancing around, and instructing Leon and Percival to scout around and warn them of anyone approaching from behind or ahead.

"We'll get him to Gaius, and then… decide what to do…" Leon said vaguely.

Gwaine began to pull him away after them, but the king held Merlin back.

"Merlin," Arthur insisted quietly, "did you mean it?" His eyes stared hard into the warlock's, searching for his friend somewhere in there.

Merlin nodded, "Especially the bit about you being a prat." He added in a hoarse voice.

Arthur didn't reply.

* * *

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**A/N: I'm back! (sarcastic cheers) Here, dear reader, have a virtual piece of birthday cake!  
**

**I have been asked to do my version of the final, but I still haven't finished it, and it's going to take simply ages. Because I want it to be decent.  
I also got a prompt from 'sword' ages ago, which I ****_still_**** haven't done. At least, I've written it, but it isn't as humorous as I was aiming, so I'm STILL editing. And one from Whitefires, which will probably be VERY angsty, so hold onto your hats.  
**

**W****ould you like this one from Arthur's point of view?**** It has potential. Pop me a PM or review if that is what you want. I could certainly do it.  
**

**Please, prompts! Thanks heaps to ****Irysiiea for giving me such a brilliant and detailed prompt/idea. You may have an extra slice of cake. Thankyou heaps!**

***holds glass of slightly flat Lemonade aloft* Cheers, and PSP! [Please send prompts!]  
**

**-JC**


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